


The Wolf's Fury

by Trolltek



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon is scared of Jon, Everyone is scared of Jon, Gen, Jon has a bunch of kids, Jon has mistresses, Jon hates the South, Jon hates the Targaryens, Jon is Cregan Stark come again, Jon is angry, Jon is bitter, Jon knows something, N plus A equals J, R Plus L Does Not Equal J, Revenge, The North loves Jon, The South is scared of Jon, The White Wolf, northern independence, vengeance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-24 23:36:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14366136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trolltek/pseuds/Trolltek
Summary: The Army of the Dead is destroyed, and the Night King slain, but not all is well in the Seven Kingdoms. In the North, Jon Stark – the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North – simmers in icy hate, his rage for House Targaryen as burning as it was seventeen years ago during the War for the Dawn. Will the White Wolf remain silent, accepting the rule of the dragons that brought death and ruin upon his house or will he bring death and ruin upon those that destroyed his family?





	1. The Dragon King and Queen

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sick and tired of this Targaryen wank-fest in any fanfiction I go on, so here you go!

Queen Daenerys, the First of Her Name, was silent as she observed the council debate over one mundane topic to another while her husband King Aegon, the Sixth of His Name, was whispering something to the Hand of the King – Jon Connington – who nodded slightly and whispered something back.

“Your Graces, we recently received word from the North.” Harry Strickland, the Master of Coin, said grimly, his eyes focused more on Aegon than Daenerys while Daenerys fought hard to not roll her eyes. It was no secret that Aegon’s supporters, those that came to Westeros with him, still despised that Daenerys and Aegon ruled as co-rulers instead of Aegon ruling and her sitting like a little flower, saying nothing. Still, the idea of news from the North was always nerve-wracking for Daenerys for whenever the Lord of Winterfell was involved, it was always troublesome for House Targaryen.

Jon Stark, the wildest of their vassals, was not a man that remained silent for long. She could still remember the hate on the young Lord Stark’s face when he was forced to bend the knee to the son of his aunt’s kidnapper and the daughter of his grandfather and uncle’s murderer but Daenerys knew that was only the tip of the iceberg for Jon Stark had a deep hatred for her and Aegon because Sansa Baratheon, King Tommen Baratheon’s own wife, was raped and murdered by Khal Argo, her most useful soldier and the leader of the Dothraki sworn to her and it was for that crime and the lack of punishment for the crime that the Starks despised her and her nephew.

“Hm?” Aegon hummed, appearing disinterested, but Daenerys knew her nephew and she could see the fear in his eyes which brought her a sense of annoyance. It was no secret that King Aegon Targaryen feared his Warden of the North for whenever they were in the same room, the King would be pale and his usual iron tones would not be present. How was it that in this tale Aegon was Joffrey Baratheon and Jon Stark was Tywin Lannister?

Jon Stark truly was a northern Tywin Lannister, in truth. It made her laugh that the house that Starks hated as much as Targaryens was who Jon Stark was most compared to. His cold, ruthless bearing, his destruction of House Bolton and his defiance in the face of his King and Queen. He was Tywin Lannister twenty years before the Rebellion.

“What happens in the North of our Kingdom, Lord Hand?” Daenerys wondered, looking towards Jon Connington, finding a great deal of amusement in Harry Strickland’s annoyed expression.

“As you know, Queen Daenerys, the North are a wild bunch to say the least.” The Hand said, grunting. It was known throughout the Seven Kingdoms that the Hand of the King and the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands despised the Starks and the North. “Word has come that the Lord of Winterfell has begun building more and more settlements in the True North.” He said, grimacing at such a name.

Daenerys hummed.

The True North was named as it was in the climax of the war when the North grew in size, now bigger than the entirety of Westeros when Jon Stark claimed the True North as it began to be called, giving lordships and castles to Wildlings. It was said that Tormund Giantsbane was known as the Lord of Snowfall – one of the many new castles – and Protector of the True North who ruled over the True North, subservient only to the Lord of Winterfell. Many in the South rallied against it, cursing that the North should hand over some land but fortunately Aegon was not fool enough to add insult to injury knowing rebellion would arrive in an instant.

With Viserion killed by Cersei Lannister’s cursed black arrows, Rhaegal slain in the first battle against the Night King and Drogon injured and lost in the cold waters of the True North in the final battle against the Night King, the Targaryens no longer had unparalleled power to hold over their vassals which is why the South feared the North as it did.

“What importance does this have?” Aurane Velaryon, the legitimized Lord of Driftmark, and the Master of Ships, wondering, arching an eyebrow at Harry Strickland. “Jon Stark has been creating settlements since the war ended.” He said.

Daenerys almost slapped her forehead at her husband’s noticeable flinch towards merely the name of the Lord of Winterfell.

“The importance, as you say Lord Velaryon, is that Jon Stark is not a man that has loyalty or love for King Aegon and Queen Daenerys.” Jon Connington said calmly. “The Lord of Winterfell is one step away from rebellion. He has not forgotten nor forgiven that Khal Argo took his sister from him.” His voice dripped with blame as he gazed at Daenerys for half a second.

Daenerys gave him a sharp glare but said nothing.

“Why not calm that rage of his, then, Your Grace?” Tyrion Lannister, the Master of Law wonder curiously. “Give the Lord of Winterfell Khal Argo. Let him have his justice and he will thank you for it.”

“If we give him Khal Argo now, he will demand more and more and more.” Daenerys said sternly, her violet eyes hard. “Jon Stark will never stop demanding and before you know it, you will be on a bended knee with Longclaw at your neck.” She snapped, while Aegon paled even more if possible. “Jon Stark is not a man to be underestimated.”

“House Lannister can find a middle ground of agreement with Lord Stark.” Tyrion pressed, while Daenerys nodded for him to continue. “There is an amicable relationship between Jon Stark and my cousin, Devan.” Tyrion told her, his voice desperate, knowing he feared war as she did.

Daenerys considered this. Devan Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock, was certainly a man that called Jon Stark friend. Even now, she wondered how Tyrion had allowed Devan to become Lord of the Rock as he had even though the reason was logical. There was little love for Tywin Lannister and his children in the Westerlands and would only bring unease if the Imp became their liege lord, but the men of the West loved Daven Lannister as a man, warrior and leader, and with Jaime Lannister the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and Tyrion as Hand of the Queen, it was an easy decision.

The friendship between Lord Stark and Lord Lannister was even stranger as neither men was alike and the Starks and Lannisters had a less than amicable relationship. Jon Stark is a quiet and cold man while Daven Lannister is a loud and joyful man but beyond that they made friends and the bond between Lannister and Stark, the North and the Westerlands was stronger than it ever was but as the saying goes, you make your true friends on your battlefield and the Lord of Winterfell and the Lord of Casterly Rock had fought side by side during Euron Greyjoy’s rebellion with the war ending when they slew the so-called King of the Iron Islands as one.

“Devan Lannister has as much love for us as Lord Stark does.” Aegon said for the first time sounding like a wise King. “Do you think Devan Lannister has forgotten that we burned Tommen Baratheon, his own cousin, alive?” He demanded of the council. “Do you think he forgives the grievous crime done to his friend’s sister?”

“King Aegon is correct.” Daenerys said, her voice calm. “In this situation, the only thing we can do is arrange a tourney, invite the Lord Paramounts and learn exactly where it is that everyone’s loyalties lie." There was those that agreed and those that disagreed as the arguments once again started up while Daenerys brewed over in her mind who would be loyal to House Targaryen and who would side with the treasonous Lord of Winterfell.

The North was their main threat, they were not even a choice. The Westerlands could be either a threat or an ally considering the friendship between Jon and Devan and the bond of blood between Daven and Tyrion. The Stormlands were tricky to the say the least, for even though Jon Connington was lawfully the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, the Stormlands had a greater love and support for Gendry Baratheon, the Lord of Storms End who was Jon Stark’s own goodbrother. The Iron Islands could go either way considering the history that Lord Theon shared with Jon, though he had sworn his allegiance to Daenerys years ago. The Vale would undoubtedly follow the North considering that Robin Arryn had been fostered at Winterfell under Jon Stark’s tutelage and Yohn Royce was Lord Stark’s greatest supporter when he crushed the Boltons. The Reach would highly likely remain loyal to the crown but could just as easily support the North if they were winning knowing Olenna Tyrell and her still unmarried granddaughter Margaery. The Riverlands would support Jon Stark just on the merit of avenging Lord Tully’s niece. Dorne, on the other hand, would undoubtedly support the crown because of Aegon, even though they were not pleased that Khal Argo was allowed to live after committing the same crime that took Elia Martell from them.

In the grand scheme of things, the North undoubtedly have three kingdoms including themselves to support them with the North, the Vale and the Riverlands while the Crown had two definite supporters with the Crownlands and Dorne while the Westerlands, the Stormlands, the Reach and the Iron Islands could go either way.

“What if we give Lord Stark a wife, a southern wife?” Grand Maester Malrik, who replaced the sniveling fool Pycelle, put before the Small Council. “If Jon Stark is linked to the South through marriage, it lessens the chance of rebellion, does it not?” The broad-shouldered old man wondered, looking to Daenerys who considered this.

It could work.

“What need is the Lord of Winterfell of a wife?” Lord Commander Barristan Selmy wondered as the council’s eyes swiveled to the legendary knight. “The White Wolf has seven sons and two daughters.” Barristan the Bold explained, baffled at how illogical the highborn could be even after an event like the Long Night as they still valued their politics and schemes over truth and justice.

“No more than upstart legitimized bastards, Lord Commander.” Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers said, the expression on his face unreadable. “They are merely the children of his mistresses, each born bastards and only able to claim the name Stark to calm the wrath of their father.”

Daenerys found no fault in this statement, though she knew if the Lord of Winterfell ever heard this, Varys would find his head on a spike. Lord Jon Stark was a paranoid man that never wed, refusing to give another power over his kingdom and so instead, he fathered bastards on his mistresses which consisted of Val and Ygritte of the Free Folk, Alys Karstark and Dacey Mormont. It was often laughed about in the South; that Jon Stark wished to go the way of King Ronard Storm, known as Ronard the Bastard.

“Despite what you may think, Lord Varys, the Lord of Winterfell cares not what you think of his children.” Barristan almost rolled his eyes. “My meaning is that why should Lord Stark even agree to take a wife when he has seven sons to inherit his lands and titles?”

Lord Varys was about to speak but Aegon Targaryen, acting a King for once, held his hand up, silencing the council.

“Lord Commander Selmy is correct.” The Silver King said, his face hard. “Offering Jon Stark a southern bride will only serve to make him wroth.” He shook his head. “No. The best way to deal with this is to invite all the Lord Paramounts for a tourney.” He told the council. “The Crown Prince’s nameday is within the month. We will use that as an excuse to recall all the Lord Paramounts, see who our friend is and who is as eager as Jon Stark to regain their independence.”

The Small Council said nothing, but they bowed their heads in agreement.

Daenerys Targaryen also found herself nodding, mildly surprised that the King actually spoke something sensible for once.

Now, it was only a matter of patience. They would soon learn if rebellion was inevitable or if the stability of the Realm could be maintained.

Only time would tell.


	2. House Stark - Characters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reason I didn't add Arya or Sansa is because Sansa is dead and Arya is part of House Baratheon now.

**Name: Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North**

**Alias: The White Wolf**

**Age: 37**

**Description: Jon Stark is a stern and ruthless man that is willing to do anything for his family and the North. The Lord of Winterfell has a great hatred of the South and an even greater one of House Targaryen and it is his goal to bring the fall of House Targaryen and make the North an independent nation as it was before Aegon the Conqueror came to Westeros. Though a cold and vengeful man, he cares for his family more than anything else in the world, though at times he has trouble showing this to his nine children. In the North, he is known as Jon the Wild for taking nobleborn and lowborn women to bed as he pleases even though he has four official mistresses but he is also famed for his honor as he legitimises his bastards every time that he fathers one.**

****

**Name: Cregan Stark, the Heir of Winterfell and the North**

**Age: 16**

**Parents: Jon Stark and Dacey Mormont**

**Alias: The Fierce Wolf**

**Description: Cregan Stark is his father's son in every inch of the word. Unlike his younger siblings, he is a warrior to the core, like his father, and he cares little for niceties and false words, instead looking at a man or woman's actions to determine their worth. Among all of Jon Stark's children, it is Cregan Stark alone who had inherited his father's hatred of the South and House Targaryen as he was the only one of his siblings old enough to remember how angry and sad his father had been when the news of his Aunt Sansa's death reached the North. He acts as his father's closest adviser, learning to rule, preparing for the day that the North would be an independent nation. Like his father, he has trouble showing those he cares for that he truly cares for them because of his grim bearing that he shares with the Lord of Winterfell.**

****

**Name: Rickard Stark, the Heir of Moat Cailin and second-in-line to Winterfell.**

**Age: 15**

**Parents: Jon Stark and Val**

**Description: Unlike his elder brother or father, Rickard Stark has a greater affinity to knowledge than battle though he can handle himself in a battle, trained personally by his mother. His dream is to become the greatest Maester that the world has ever seen and has been trained under the tutelage of Maester Samwell Tarly, one of his father's most loyal advisers to achieve that dream. Unlike his father and elder brother, Rickard is a bright and joyous young man who freely shows his love, though this results in a stormy relationship with his father who he is the complete opposite of. Despite his stormy relationship with his father, Rickard and Cregan are as close as brothers should be, loving and respecting one another.**

****

**Name: Jeor Stark, third-in-line to Winterfell and the North**

**Age: 14**

**Parents: Jon Stark and Dacey Mormont**

**Description: While Cregan Stark and Rickard Stark, Jon's elder sons, took after their mothers in appearance, Jeor Stark is his father come again with the same dark hair, grey eyes and long face but his look with his father is where the similarities end for the third son of Jon Stark is known as the Wild Wolf come again, getting into brawls and seducing young maidens as much as possible much to his stern father's dismay. Unlike Rickard who thinks their father's idea of independence and war a foolish one, Jeor Stark supports his father whole-hardheartedly who he respects more than any of his siblings for Jeor regards his father as a living legend, the man who slew the Night King and brought order to the Realm.**

****

**Name: Edric Stark, fourth-in-line to Winterfell and the North.**

**Age: 13**

**Parents: Jon Stark and Ygritte**

**Description: Edric Stark is as hot-tempered as his mother but as stone-faced as his father. He was fostered under the tutelage of Tormund Giantsbane and thus values the traditions of the Free Folk, having a great disdain for the South who force his father to bend for them but despite his respect for his father, the two are constantly involved in an argument because they are so similar in personality with Ygritte having to step into to stop the two from ripping each other apart but despite this, Edric loves his father and Jon loves his son.**

****

**Name: Torrhen Stark, fifth-in-line to Winterfell and the North.**

**Age: 11**

**Parents: Jon Stark and Val**

**Description: As the eldest of the youngest sons of Jon Stark, Torrhen has a sense of responsibility to take care of his brothers and for this reason has grown into a solemn but caring boy similar to how his father was in his youth. As a result of inheriting the less stubborn traits of his father, the relationship between his father is the most father-son like relationship out of his brothers with Cregan acting more a adviser, Rickard too obsessed with knowledge, Jeor too wild and independent and Edric raised in the True North.**

**Name: Harlon Stark, sixth-in-line to Winterfell and the North.**

**Age: 9**

**Parents: Jon Stark and Val**

**Description: Harlon is a sweet child that cares more for sweets and animals that ruling or fighting or knowledge but because of his sweetness, he spends little time with his father who he is afraid of because of his grim bearing much to Jon Stark's dismay.**

****

**Name: Edwyn Stark, seventh-in-line to Winterfell and the North.**

**Age: 7**

**Parents: Jon Stark and Alys Karstark**

**Description: Edwyn, like his older brother Harlon, spends his time playing, eating sweets and playing with animals, but unlike his elder brother he is not afraid of his father and in fact interrupts his father even when the Lord of Winterfell is in a council to play with him much to the amusement of Jon Stark. He has a wildness that Harlon never had.**

****

**Name: Karsi Stark, eighth-in-line to Winterfell and the North.**

**Age: 17**

**Parents: Jon Stark and Ygritte**

**Description: Karsi is every bit her mother's daughter, as wild and fierce in battle, though she was educated in the skill of battle by her father. Out of everyone in the world, Karsi loves her father more than anyone else and will act with brutal force if anyone insults the Lord of Winterfell. She, like her younger brother the Heir of Winterfell, supports her father's plans of independence much to the dismay of her mother who does not wish for her father to start more war just when peace was finally achieved.**

****

**Name: Dalla Stark, ninth-in-line to Winterfell and the North.**

**Age: 15**

**Parents: Jon Stark and Val**

**Description: Born the twin of Rickard, her and her brother are inseperable and for good reason, for if Rickard loves books and knowledge, Dalla loves the songs of romance and love. Many in the North say that she is her aunt Sansa come again but with her mother's coloring. It is for this reason that the relationship between her and her father is a difficult one as whenever Jon looks upon his daughter, he is reminded of his sweet sister and he grows sad, then he grows angry and because she reminds him of his sister so much, the Lord of Winterfell is extra protective of his youngest daughter.**

****

**Name: Val of the Free Folk, the Commander of the Winterguard**

**Age: 38**

**Children: Rickard Stark, Torrhen Stark, Harlon Stark and Dalla Stark.**

**Description: She is a strong and wild woman that loves and hates the Lord of Winterfell in equal measure. She loves him for his fierceness and his protectiveness towards his family which is what first drew him to her but she hates him for his rage and his ambition that she believes endangers her children and their happiness but despite this, she cannot help but continue to be with him because of her fierce love. Among Lord Stark's loves, she is the greatest and fiercest warrior.**

****

**Name: Ygritte of the Free Folk, a Captain of the Winterguard**

**Age: 37**

**Children: Edrick Stark and Karsi Stark**

****

**Name: Alys Karstark, the Lady of Karhold**

**Age: 36**

**Heir: Edwyn Stark (who will become Edwyn Karstark when he becomes Lord of Karhold)**

**Children: Edwyn Stark**

**Description: Like all of Jon Stark's mistresses, she is a strong woman but she has a different strength from Ygritte and Val who are warriors. She has a lady's strength.**

****

**Name: Dacey Mormont, the Lady of Bear Island**

**Age: 40**

**Heir: Lyanna Mormont**

**Children: Cregan Stark and Jeor Stark**

**Description: She is a mix between all of Jon's women, strong as a warrior and a woman. She is also a favourite of Jon Stark for one reason or another, none can say for certain. Some say it is because she is the mother of two of his eldest sons while other say because she was the first to bend the knee when Lord Stark first became King in the North before he was forced to bend the knee to House Targaryen.**

****

**Name: Brandon Stark, the Lord of Greywater Watch**

**Age: 31**

**Children: Eddard Reed (14) and Sansa Reed (12)**

**Description: Brandon Stark is a wise man that rules the Neck as Meera Reed's husband and father to the Reed Heirs. He is the Lord of Winterfell's most intelligent adviser and keeps Jon Stark ahead of the game through the use of his visions and knowledge of the past, the potential future and what is going on in the other kingdoms. His ambition is to bring House Targaryen to justice for the murder of his most beloved sibling.**

****

**Name: Rickon Stark, the Lord of Moat Cailin**

**Age: 26**

**Heir: Rickard Stark**

**Description: Rickon Stark is a wild and angry man who seeks the destruction of House Targaryen like his elder brother and he is known as the Mad Dog of Jon Stark throughout the Seven Kingdoms. There is no man in the Seven Kingdoms as loyal to Lord Stark as Rickon Stark, the Savage Wolf.**

 


	3. A Son's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cregan Stark and his father Jon Stark discuss how they will proceed with a raven from King's Landing inviting them for Prince Jaehaerys' nameday tourney arrives. (Sorry for the short chapter).

Cregan Stark found his father in the Godswood, polishing Longclaw, the new ancestral sword of House Stark, as he always did after an execution. 

This time it was a member of the Free Folk who had gotten it into his head that he could follow the Old Ways of the Free Folk where they ravaged farms and took their women for their own but he soon learnt that Jon Stark would not tolerate this when his father had taken the fool’s head as the Warden of the North yet Cregan knew there was more than the execution on his father’s mind. 

There was little that softened his father’s hard grey eyes and among that small list was the way they would soften in sorrow after an execution yet he now wore his cold grey eyes which meant that there was something that had once again angered his stone-faced father and Cregan would bet any amount of gold that it had something to do with the South. 

“Father.” 

Cregan observed his father who turned his head towards him, seemingly noticing Cregan for the first time, too lost in his own thoughts and Cregan was glad to see that his father’s eyes softened slightly at the sight of his son for Cregan would rather not speak to the Lord of Winterfell when the man was cursing the Targaryens.

“Come, Cregan.” His father’s which was always icy when speaking to others had a slight warmth to it that it had only had when speaking to his family. “That fool King on the Iron Throne has deemed that his Warden of the North shall come to the capital.” His father’s expression twisted into a snarl as it often did when speaking of King Aegon and his wife Queen Daenerys. “Prince Jaehaerys’ name day has come and our dear King and Queen demand that every Lord Paramount shall attend.” His father shook his head in disgust. “Of course, the casual lack of a question tells us all what we need to know; it is not a choice.” 

Cregan sat beside his father, considering.

“Is this not an opportunity for the North, Father?” Cregan wondered, his voice sharing the iron tones of his father. “Prince Jaehaerys’ nameday tourney will bring all the Lord Paramounts and their most powerful lords to King’s Landing and House Stark has seven unmarried sons and two unmarried daughters.” 

His father was silent, considering. 

“It is an idea worth considering.” His father told him, sharing a slight smile before his face hardened as he looked towards Cregan. “Will you be willing to wed for duty? Will you be willing to give up any future love or happiness for the independence of the North?” Father asked him, his expression as hard as stone.

Cregan did not hesitate.

“I will, Father.” He declared, bowing his head to the man he would call King. “Whatever is asked of me to further the might of the North, I will do so, happily. Your heart is yours, my sword is yours and your will is mine to obey, Father.” Cregan went far enough to bend the knee before his seated father who seemed mildly surprised. “I, Cregan Stark, will serve my father so that I can see him rule as the King in the North like our ancestors before the coming of Aegon and his dragons.” He bowed his head even further. “I do so swear this by the Old Gods.” 

“Stand, boy.” Jon told his son, patting the Heir of Winterfell’s shoulder and Cregan nodded, taking a seat near his father on the log that he was seated on. “The Reach is a must. We must have the Reach on our side through marriage.” Jon said to his son. “If the Targaryens claim their allegiance, they control the greatest food source in the country.” Jon grunted, not pleased even at the mere thought of Aegon fucking Targaryen having the Reach under his command in the war to come. “Isabella Tyrell is of an age with you.” Jon explained. “What do you think of her as a match?” 

Cregan considered this, silent in thought.

“The Tyrells have the greatest food supply; a large army and they control the second biggest piece of land in the Seven Kingdoms.” Cregan agreed. “But will Willas Tyrell agree in giving his daughter to a Stark?” Cregan wondered. “To my knowledge, the Reach and the North have little love for another and there is the fact that the Reach are the most religious region that follow the Seven.” He explained to his father. “Will they be pleased in having the Lord Paramount’s daughter wed a northern savage that follows heathen gods?” Cregan spat the two words out as if they were poison, his hatred of the South clear to see for his father, no doubt.

“Willas Tyrell is a man who will no involve himself in war, not if he can help it.” Jon told his heir as he felt a smile curve at his lips. “But, Olenna Tyrell is a woman that understands just how quickly war can be ignited and when it is, well she will have to pick a side eventually. All we have to do is ensure that the Tyrells regard us as the winning side and to do that we need to gather other allies at this gods-forsaken tourney.” 

Cregan nodded, understanding. 

“Cregan, tell only Rickard, Jeor and Karsi of these plans.” Father told Cregan sternly. “Do not mention this to your mother; she still refuses to see that war is needed if we are to change Westeros for the better.” Father commanded him and Cregan could understand where his Lord Father was coming from. Cregan knew that his father and mother loved one another, but he also knew that Dacey Mormont constantly snapped at her father, claiming that father was endangering the lives of his children with thoughts of war but Cregan also knew that she did not understand the wrath that laid dormant in his father.

They had taken his father’s sister from them while her killer roams the streets free and powerful as the leader of the Dothraki. 

Cregan would do all in his power to ensure that the Dothraki Khal learnt what it meant to rouse the Wolf’s Fury.

“When we arrive at the capital, you will begin correspondence with the Tyrells.” Father commanded him. “Rickard will make friends with make friends with the young Lannisters, and Devan will grow warmer to the idea of supporting the North.” Father reasoned. “Jeor will bond with Theon’s sons and hopefully we will secure the Greyjoy armada and Karsi…does she still correspond with Princess Arianne’s heir?” 

Cregan nodded in confirmation.

“Well, have her act as Prince Daemon’s friend during the tourney.” Father wore his grim expression, the same expression that he only wore when he acted in a manner that father often said his own father, Cregan’s grandfather, would consider dishonorable. “Karsi has a fondness for the boy, make her use this fondness and perhaps Dorne will have to choose between their Prince Daemon’s potential betrothed and the son of their Princess Elia that allowed a man that committed the same crime as Gregor Clegane roam free.” 

Father sighed deeply, his grey eyes like chips of ice as sheathed Longclaw into its scabbard, his jaw hardening.

“You will secure the Reach.” Father began, his voice as colder as winter. “Rickard the Westerlands and Jeor the Iron Islands and Karsi will bring over Dorne to us.” His father declared, a pleased glint in his eyes. “With the Reach, Westerlands, Iron Islands, Dorne, the Vale and the Riverlands to our alliance, the rest will swiftly follow, and House Targaryen will know that the debt is paid as their dynasty crumbles in around them.” 

Even Cregan felt a grin curved at his lips, eager to see the day that the entire Realm would unite under banner, unite under Jon Stark’s vengeance as House Targaryen breathed their last breath, their three-hundred-year-old dynasty nothing but rubble and ash.

He could taste it even now; a taste sweeter than any fruit in the Seven Kingdoms.

Father and son sat in the silence of the Godswood, a quiet sense of satisfaction filling them as they imagined bringing death and ruin upon House Targaryen as House Stark could finally roar their defiance and their rage and their hate.  
Yes.

The day was near.

The reckoning of House Stark was near.

The Wolf’s Fury would soon be known throughout the Seven Kingdoms and then the world would learn that the wolf does nor forget nor does it forgive.

Never.


	4. House Targaryen - Characters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for a bio on Prince Jaehaerys. Here is the entire Targaryen family.

**Who: Aegon Targaryen VI, King of Westeros.**

**Age: 38**

**Description: Aegon is an arrogant man that believes it is his right to rule the Seven Kingdoms as the heir of the dragons but he is merely a king that prefers bootlickers and fools to surround him as to compliment him and validate his own ego over true and strong men that will be harsh and honest with him but despite his arrogance and sense of entitlement, Aegon Targaryen fears his Warden of the North more than any man living and turns to a quiet man when in the same room with Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell. Aegon is also a man that shares his bed with anyone willing though he does not recognise his bastards as his own and even shows little love to his own trueborn children who he regards as nuisances at best.**

****

**Who: Daenerys Targaryen I, the Queen of Westeros.**

**Age: 36**

**Description: Daenerys is a hot-tempered woman that like her nephew believes it is the right of the Targaryens to rule Westeros as 'rightful monarchs' but she is a hypocrite in her own thinking as she believes she should be the lone ruler of Westeros even though her nephew's claim is the true one. Unlike her nephew, she is not careless when taking men and women to her bed, refusing to mother any bastards but like her nephew, she regards Jon Stark as a threat, a threat that could be the end of her and the King. She has a hate and love for Jon Stark, the man that shared her bed when she first came to Westeros and still refused to bend the knee to her as the only man to act her true equal.**

****

**Who: Jaehaerys Targaryen, the Crown Prince of Westeros**

**Age: 16**

**Description: Unlike his father and mother, Jaehaerys Targaryen is a humble and quiet man that takes more after his grandfather, the late Prince Rhaegar, in that he prefers books and music over battle and ruling, though he is no less skilled in either of these things. Jaehaerys has a great hatred of his arrogant father and hypocritical mother, regarding King Aegon and Queen Daenerys as a man and woman unfit to rule and he works to unseat them for the sake of the Realm. For this reason, his plan is to use his nameday tourney as a chance to gain support to dethrone his parents and ascend as the King of Westeros.**

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**Who: Daena Targaryen, the Princess of Westeros**

**Age: 15**

**Description: Named for Daena the Defiant, she is a hot-blooded and defiant as her namesake. Beyond all else, her loyalty belongs to her elder brother, Jaehaerys Targaryen who she is glad to help dethrone her father and mother, despising them for allowing a child-killer roam free. Unknown to House Targaryen or House Targaryen, there is a love between Daena Targaryen and Rickard Stark, Lord's Stark second son, that was forged when they were still children and the Lord of Winterfell and his growing brood were invited to King's Landing.**

****

**Who: Daeron Targaryen, the Second Prince of Westeros.**

**Age: 13**

**Description: Daeron has an ingrained madness to him similar to his great-grandfather, Aerys the Mad. There is little love between him and his siblings as he wishes to become King even though he knows he is the younger son and has plans to achieve his goal, no matter the means. Yet, like mad princes before him such as Aerys the Mad and Joffrey the Illborn, Daeron is an arrogant foll that has too high of an opinion of himself and makes terrible mistakes because of it. For example, when he was only eleven, he was found kicking a serving boy on the ground while laughing and it was reported that Jaehaerys, his older brother, beat him half to death until Lord Commander Selmy pulled him off Daeron who was covered in his own blood.**


	5. The Brothers of Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before we skip back to King's Landing to meet the Targaryens, we will have a few more chapters based in Winterfell.

Rickard’s icy blue eyes caught sight of his elder brother, Cregan, who stood by his door, leaning against it with his arms crossed as he observed him with his own mother’s brown eyes wearing the stone-faced expression of their lord father causing a scoff to leave Rickard’s lips.

He loved his father, truly he did, but Jon Stark was a hard man to impress, and an even harder man to please thus Rickard had long given up trying to do so and whenever Cregan decided to act his father’s son, Rickard’s hackles would rise to say the least.

“Father has spoken to you.” It was not a question. “What madness does our dear lord father have planned for us now, brother?” Rickard asked, knowing that the vengeful Lord of Winterfell would not send away his most loyal adviser and son from his side for no good reason.

“Father’s plans are not madness, little brother.” Cregan said sternly, his eyes hard. “They have never been madness.” Cregan pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against as he stood before Rickard, tall and proud.

“Our father plots war, Cregan.” Rickard said loud enough for only Cregan to hear his treasonous world. “What good is bringing war to Westeros once again? What good is dooming good men and women to death for petty vengeance?”

Cregan was angry, Rickard could tell. Like their father, Cregan was not a man that easily revealed his emotions or feelings, and none could truly understand when and if the Heir of Winterfell was angry, but Rickard knew his brother. He knew that when his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed, and his jaw tightened that Cregan Stark was _furious_.

“Petty vengeance, you say?” Cregan asked with a controlled rage. “What do you know of our father’s vengeance, little brother?” He demanded as he approached Rickard who was seated on his bed. “What do you know of the pain that our father lives with day in and day out?” He was basically looming over Rickard, his eyes wide and wild. “You do not.” His words were as cold as the winter that the Starks ruled over. “ _None_ of you do.” The Fierce Wolf hissed darkly. “Not you, not our siblings, not our mothers. Nobody.”

The Fierce Wolf of the North was pacing, like a caged wolf.

“Perhaps we do not, brother,” Rickard began, a sense of nervousness in his heart, yet he continued, speaking his mind that values knowledge over emotion, earning his moniker as the Wise Wolf. “yet, war cannot be the answer. The North cannot wage war just because a northern daughter was murdered.” Rickard said, braving himself to continue speaking to his volatile brother. “Did Dorne go to war when Elia Martell’s murderer was free? No, they did not because they understood the price of war.”

Cregan was still yet Rickard failed to notice his form trembling in wrath.

“Father vengeance is not wort-“

Cregan turned towards Rickard so fast that she thought his head would snap off, but it didn’t as he slammed his hands on the table in Rickard’s chambers.

“THEY KILLED HIS SISTER!” He roared, his dark eyes wild and angry. “From our father, they took his beloved sister.” He continued, approaching his brother. “They killed his pregnant sister, they killed his sister’s young son who was still a babe and the man that committed this crime against our father, against House Stark, again _us_ still walks this world alive and free while our Aunt Sansa and our cousins, unborn or otherwise, rot in the ground.”

Cregan was breathing heavily, trying to calm down.

“Tell me, Rickard,” Cregan began, looking towards his pale little brother. “how would you respond if it was Karsi or Dalla in her position? What if our sisters were taken from us by cowards and fool? Would you, as you say, do _nothing?_ ” Cregan was pleased to see the expression of anger that twisted his brother’s face for a moment. “House Targaryen took from us our blood and that blood will be avenged, one way or another.”

Rickard was silent for a long moment.

“I…I understand.”

Cregan nodded, not sure if Rickard was speaking truthfully, but willing to slowly but surely convince him of the rightfulness of their father’s desire for war and vengeance.

“Good.” Cregan said calmly, his voice grim. “That is not what I came to talk to you about, Rickard.” His elder brother said, taking a seat on the bed next to him as he threw his arm over Rickard’s shoulder. “Father has told me of some of his plans and he says that only you, Karsi, Jeor and I will learn of these plans.”

Rickard hummed in thought, understand where his father was coming from. Among all his children, only his four eldest children knew of his ambition to overthrow the Targaryen while his lovers knew but did not approve. His father had always been a man to avoid risk, and for good reason. It is still whispered in the North how Jon Stark slaughtered each man that was involved in his betrayal when he was still Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and even now his father has ensure that the Night’s Watch loyalty to the Lord Commander is supreme and if he finds any hint of treason on his visits to the Wall, he executes them without hesitation. It is for this reason why the friendship between Jon Stark and Jaime Lannister is such an infamous and powerful one.

“We will involve ourselves with the Great Houses of Westeros.” Cregan told him as Rickard listened closely. “I will secure the Tyrells by convincing them to give me their daughter Isabella as my wife. You will claim the Westerlands by claiming the attention of Joanna Lannister and Lord Devan will have no choice but to fight with the son of his close friend and his beloved daughter’s husband.” Cregan told him while the wind was knocked from Rickard. Of course logically Rickard knew that he would wed one day but he had never thought that the person he would be wed to would be a living, breathing person that was not Daena Targaryen.

“Rickard.” Cregan’s words were sharp as Rickard shook his head, trying to clear himself of thoughts of the She-Dragon. “Listen to me, little brother.” Rickard nodded and so his brother continued explain the situation. “Jeor will befriend Lord Theon’s sons and if he can, charm his daughter and perhaps we will gain the Greyjoy Fleet and Karsi has a fondness for Prince Daemon Martell. Father means to use that to claim the Dornish from right underneath the nose of Aegon Targaryen.”

Rickard nodded, seeing the logic and intelligence of his father’s plans. His father had seven sons and two daughters, only a fool would not make use of his large brood yet despite this he how it was him, the usually dutiful son, that had the biggest problem with this. Jeor would accept because he had long desired Lysane Greyjoy and Karsi would follow the command of the father that she adored and loved above all men and women. Cregan wasn’t a worry and Rickard did not doubt that it was his brother’s idea to look to southern marriages for himself and their siblings.

Rickard’s attention was moved from his thoughts when Cregan cupped his cheek making Rickard feel all the boy he was when Rickard would get involved in a fight and Cregan would come to save him from the bigger boys.

“Rickard,” he began, his voice fond. “the family is all that matters. Long after we are ashes in the wind, the family name is all that lives on. If we are to leave the Starks and the North more powerful than what we found it, we must all do our duty.”

Rickard said nothing, but he gave his brother a nod of understanding.

With that Cregan left Rickard to his own thoughts, to his own stormy and cursed thoughts of Daena Targaryen and her silver hair and her beautiful smile and her defiant eyes and Rickard cursed his heart, cursed it for its treason against his lord father and his family. How could he love a woman whose grandfathers kidnapped their Great-Aunt Lyanna and executed their Great-Grandfather Rickard and Great-Uncle Brandon? How could he love a woman whose father and mother turned a blind eye to the murder of their father’s beloved sister, their own Aunt Sansa?

How?

The simple answer was that they could not. Rickard loved Daena, that was the truth, he loved her more than any woman he had ever known. Her beautiful smile and her defiant eyes and her hot-headed nature, he dreamed of it every night, but he loved his father and his brothers and sisters and his mothers even more so. They were his blood, his family, if it came down to it, House Stark would always be his choice.

As he thought of his family, his thoughts turned to his father, to Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North. His father had never been a soft man, this Rickard knew all his siblings would tell you, but he loved his family no less he knew but a man raised and forged in war had more than a little trouble in being a completely loving father.

Rickard loved and respected his father, he did, but there was a bitterness to his father that no amount of years would ebb away and could, Rickard knew, only be lessened if Khal Argo’s head lay at his feet and House Targaryen pay for their crimes against House Stark and the North.

Rickard just hoped that his father could move passed his vengeance and hate when this mad war that they were about to plunge into was war.

Rickard prayed to the Old Gods.

That was all he had left in this horrible situation.

Hope.

Hope was all that remained for without hope, Rickard would be lost.

He just hoped all this tragedy and heartbreak would be worth it.

That was all he could do.

Hope and pray.

To all the Gods, Old and New.


	6. White or Grey, a Stark is a Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting between Serena Whitestark and Rickon Stark is one with many implications.

Serena Whitestark said nothing as she stood upon the shores of the Stepstones, enjoying the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks as the wind ran through her entire being giving the Captain General of the Company of the Rose a sense of peace that she had not had since she rose as the Company’s Captain General after the death of her grandfather.

Cregan Whitestark had been a strong man, a great man and Serena could not remember one time that she saw her grandfather hesitate or stumble and even on the man’s deathbed he was as strong as an ox. Her grandfather was born of the line of Brandon the Bastard, the King Who Knelt’s own bastard brother who refused to bend the knee to Targaryen invaders and who took upon the name Whitestark upon founding the Company of the Rose and the Whitestarks have ruled as the leaders of the Company ever since from Serena’s great-grandfather, to her grandfather, to her father and now to her.

For over three hundred years, the Whitestarks of Essos have removed all connection with the Starks of Winterfell, neither family reaching out with the Starks of Winterfell regarding House Whitestark as fools that did not understand King Torrhen’s sacrifice and the Whitestarks of Essos regarding the Starks in Winterfell as weaklings that could not protect even their own kingship but in Serena’s opinion, they were both fools.

They were family and they should have stood together. This was the one lesson that her grandfather hammered into as much as he could. He had taught her that the Starks of Winterfell and the Whitestarks of Essos were blood, both descended from the line of King Torrhen’s father and Brandon the Bastard’s father and so they must stand together, but Lord Rickard Stark had been a man too focused on his petty ambition and Lord Eddard had been a man entirely to stubborn for either Serena or her grandfather to pledge their sword to.

Serena, however, had no idea what to think of this Jon Stark. She knew of him, of course, who did not know of the man that slew the Night King and brought order to the world? There was not a man or woman alive did not either fear or worship the White Wolf but beyond that, she knew nothing of the Hero of the Dawn.

Yet, she would soon learn, one way or another for the Lord of Winterfell sent his own brother, the young Lord of Moat Cailin – Rickon Stark – on his behalf to speak to them, to convince to return home to fight for the Starks of Winterfell, Serena had no doubt, and she had an even smaller doubt that her company would want to fight for the Starks, to avenge a daughter of their blood. Sansa Baratheon’s death is still whispered about among the company, each cursing the Dragonlords in more hate than they ever had.

Serena felt herself stiffen when she sensed the presence of Rickon Stark, known far and wide as the Savage Wolf, who stood behind her, his great black beast stood beside him as Serena turn to gaze upon the man. Save for his red hair and blue eyes, Rickon Stark was every inch a Stark, muscular and tall, wielding a greatsword with ease.

“Your commanders talk and talk.” His voice was a deep northern drawl that many in the Company have lost after years of not being in the North. “They speak but they say nothing, they talk of acting but they do not act.” Serena could hear the anger in the young man’s voice, well there was always an anger to Rickon Stark, she mused, but it was a different kind of anger, a cold wrath so like the Kings of Winter of Old. “While they talk and whine, my brother remains a servant to the dragon fools that took our sister from us.” Rickon hissed, standing beside Serena to look out onto the Narrow Sea. “I came here for a reason.” He told the young leader of the Company of the Rose.

“And what, pray tell, is that reason, Rickon Stark?” Her voice was contemptuous, glaring at the hot-headed Lord of Moat Cailin.

“For my brother. For my nephews. For my nieces. For my siblings. For the North.” Rickon declared, his voice getting louder as he spoke. “This company mocks my house for bending the knee to dragons once again, but they do not know what it means to rule. They do not have to worry about the safety of their people, of their family.” Rickon clenched his fists. “My brother must think of more than himself.”

Serena considered this, silently agreeing with the man but feeling an apprehension in committing her men to the cause of this infamous Stark Lord.

“Our loyalty is to the North before anything else.” Serena said, catching his attention. “Yet, what the Seven Kingdoms and beyond say of Jon Stark is not pretty. They say that he is Tywin Lannister come again.” She said, observing the hard glint in his eyes. “They say the Lord of Winterfell makes the Old Man of the North seem tame in comparison to his ruthlessness.” She continued as Rickon absentmindedly nodded. “How can I trust such a man to lead my troops? How can I trust a man that would sooner wage war than sit down for peace?” She demanded of him, turning to him with blazing eyes. “Jon Stark is many things and few of them good.”

Rickon was silent for a long moment, so long that Serena even thought that the youngest son of the late Eddard Stark would not speak.

“Jon seems a hard man to you, but he's no harder than he's had to be.” Rickon said, a calmness to him that Serena had not seen since his arrival. “Our own father was kind and honorable, but his honor had lost him his head and broke his family.” Rickon’s expression twisted into a scowl at the reminder of the horror his father’s weakness had inflicted upon his children.

“Our oldest brother was brave and honorable, so like our father, but his honor had him taking a woman to wife that would spell the near extinction of House Stark and that weakened the North.” He shook his head, trying not to think bad of Father and Robb as he did while Serena saw a different side to Rickon, a softer side.

“In the North, while the Boltons, House Stark’s destined enemies, ruled the North, our brother was openly mocked as the King Who Lost the North and throughout the Seven Kingdoms, lords and ladies openly called our father a fool of the highest degree.” Rickon clenched his fists at the mere reminder.

“At court, they japed of broken wolves as they abused my sister. It fell to Jon to restore House Stark to its proper place. Just as it fell to him to rule the North, when he was no more than twenty and one. He bore that heavy burden for almost twenty years and all it earned him was mocking in the South. Instead of the honor he deserved, he was made to suffer slights beyond count, yet he gave the North peace, plenty and justice. He is a just man.” He finished, taking a deep breath after speaking without a break.

“You admire him.” Serena realized, now understand why the Savage Wolf was known as the Mad Dog of Jon Stark. Serena had long thought she understand loyalty, but this was a loyalty that even surprised her and much to her surprise she found that she respected it and him. For all his wildness and anger, Rickon Stark was a good man, she believed, and a good man would not give such unbreakable loyalty to a man that was not worth it.

“He is my brother, he is my lord, he is my King.” Rickon only said after a short silence. “Now, tell me, Lady Whitestark, will you pledge your swords to my brother, will you serve the Lord of Winterfell as you were always supposed to?” He demanded of her, his blue eyes hard. “Will you join us in our quest to overthrow House Targaryen?”

Serena was silent, even though she had already made up her mind and she felt a smirk curve at her lips at the impatient expression on the Savage Wolf’s face, a heat pooling her belly at the savage snarl on his lips.

No.

She shook her head, she could have no such thoughts when she was about to declare her swords to a man that was plotting to wage war on the greatest dynasty the world has ever seen since the fall of Valyria.

“I will, Lord Rickon.” Serena Whitestark put her right hand to her heart. “I swear my sword and the swords of the Company of the Rose to the Lord of Winterfell and his heirs. We will fight together as one, Stark and Whitestark, to bring death and destruction upon House Targaryen to avenge the North and all its sons and daughter.” She went so far as to bend the knee before Rickon who seemed more than a little surprised. “I do so swear that House Stark will rule over Westeros from the Land of Always Winter to Sunspear on the honor of my house and my family.”

Rickon grinned, a savage, wild grin that did things to Serena that could not be spoken about in the presence of the young.

“Good.”

He pulled her up by her shoulders.

“Together, let us show House Targaryen and the South the wolf’s fury.”

Serena felt a smile pull at her lips even as he cheeks began to flush.

“Let us, Lord Rickon.”

With a shared grin, Serena felt a lightness that she had never felt before entering her heart.

And, she liked it.


	7. The Sweet Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is a small introduction to some more of the Starklings.

Harlon Stark shakily aimed his arrow towards the target, his right arm pulling back the string as he prepared his shot and the second youngest son of House Stark found himself grunting as his arrow completely missed the target, instead lodging itself into the barrel on the right side of the target, next to the inner wall.

“Go on.” Torrhen, his mild-tempered elder brother advised while the wild Jeor and stone-faced Edric were cackling and smirking respectively and to add insult to injury even the youngest of the Starks Edwyn was giggling, his face red from his breathless laughter. “Father is watching, and mother is as well.” His elder brother told him, and Harlon hesitantly turned toward the upper level where he found that indeed his grinning mother and his stone-faced father were observing his bumbling training.

Breathing deeply, trying to overcome his irritation fear of his stern father, Harlon once again aimed his arrow, but he once again failed as the arrow dug into the wall directly behind the target that was laid out by Sandor Clegane, Winterfell’s Master at Arms and he felt shame burn through him as he only waited for his father’s disappointment. Jon Stark was a man that expected the best of his children and Harlon had seen how his father had treated his lords who displeased him. Who is to say he would not take a similar approach to his sons?

“Silence.” His father’s word was law in Winterfell and in the North, but none heeded his words as much as his children and this was evident by how the wild Jeor and even the stubborn Edric became silent in an instant. “I remember Jeor and Edric as children, might have even done worse than you, boy.” Jon told his son, a smile so slight that Harlon thought that it was a trick of light. “Try again.”

Harlon nodded, feeling a sense of confidence growing in his chest as he aimed his bow once again to shoot and this time he felt a bright smile curve at his lips when the arrow lodged itself in the middle of the target.

He did it.

He succeeded despite his own insecurity and in his boost of confidence, he turned to his father with a bright smile and his father was looking down at him with unreadable eyes, a nod to his son and Harlon knew his father enough to know that in his language it was the same as a normal father laughing and hugging his son but Father had never been a man for displays of affection.

“Jeor, Edric, come.” As soon as warmth entered his father, however, the coldness of the White Wolf returned as he called to his elder brothers who did not even hesitate as they nodded and within seconds were standing by his father. Harlon felt hope bloom in his chest that his father would spend more time with him when his father turned to him. “Harlon, Edwyn, listen to your mother until we are back.” Is all that the Lord of Winterfell gave him however though Harlon realized that his mother, the Commander of the Winterguard, a guard founded by his own father that acted as a guard for the most skilled women and men in the North that were trained to serve the Stark in Winterfell until their dying breath, was giving his father a hard glare that she often gave him these days.

Harlon knew that his mother and father loved one another, but he had never understood their relationship, in truth. He had always been taught that a man and woman would wed and have children and would remain faithful to one another, yet Father had nine children all different women with no wives but still none in the North said anything against this even though it was well-known in the South that such an arrangement was unheard of. But as Father and Cregan would say, the North is the North and the South is the South.

“We have things to talk about, Jon.” Harlon heard his mother say, an underlying anger in her voice as Father remained silent and stone-faced and Harlon knew that his answer would not be one that his mother would like.

“Later.” His father’s words were more of a command than a request. “There are things that must be done, and I do not have time to speak, Val.” His father’s eyes were like steel as he looked on into the distance. For as long as Harlon could remember, his father had been a silent and grim man that often times was lost in thought, even more so when he was speaking to Dalla, but Harlon had no idea why though he knew that his elder siblings understood his father’s grim bearing since they would stiffen whenever he or Torrhen asked.

“That is always your excuse.” Harlon’s mother hissed, her icy blue eyes burning. “I will be heard, Jon Stark, and you will listen.” And Harlon saw the conflict on his father’s face before his father finally sighed, lacking the power to refuse his family if they truly wanted something.

“Very well.” His father’s words were tired and his expression weary as he turned to Harlon’s elder brother. “Boys, meet with Cregan and Karsi in my solar.” He commanded of Jeor and Edric who nodded and left the Lord of Winterfell and his Winterguard Commander alone who he grabbed by the shoulder and disappeared in the Great Hall which would be empty at such an early hour.

“Time for some sparring, boy.” Master Clegane said, his voice gruff. “Enough of your eavesdropping and get some blood pumping in your body.” He said, throwing a practice sword in Harlon and Torrhen’s hand. “And you, boy, watch your brothers, you will join in their training soon enough.” Master Sandor demanded of Edwyn who grinned brightly, clapping in excitement.

“Yes!” The youngest son of Jon Stark cheered. “I’ll be like Father when he defeated the Night King and saved the world!” He declared, earning warm laughter from Torrhen and a loud cackle from Master Clegane though Harlon doubted that any man could earn a legend as grand as their father’s.

“If you fight as good as yer speak, I got no doubt, little wolf.” Master Clegane said after his gruff laughter subsided before turning to Torrhen and Harlon, eyes sharp. “Now boys, begin now.” He demanded.

With a deep breath, Harlon charged forward, his practice sword clashing with his elder brother’s own.

The fight had begun.


	8. A Mother's Love, A Lover's Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make a short chapter through Val showing how his lovers feel about his quest for vengeance.

Val glared at the Lord of Winterfell with her icy blue eyes as Jon Stark was seated across her, lounging against one of the benches as if he owned the world and it was that cocksure bearing of his that infuriated her as much as his obsession with vengeance and war.

She could still remember the first time that she had allowed the then bastard Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch to take her to bed. They had been playing a game of cat and mouse for months, sharing discreet smirks, mocking words and laughter before Val had found herself on her back, naked as the day that she was born as the Black Bastard began worshipping her body but it had always been a relationship where Val could never tell if she despised the man or if she loved him.

Her lover was without a doubt a good man, an honorable man that did his best to do the right thing, the good thing but there were times that he would become the most ruthless man that she had ever met.

When he took children of the Free Folk as hostage in all but name, as a lesson to Tormund and her that should they go against their words, he would do what needed to be done and it was this that taught many of the Free Folk to fear and respect the man in equal measure and when he sent away Gilly away with Dalla’s babe and left Gilly’s babe with Val, Val had learnt he was a man that would do what needed to be done, no matter how monstrous it seemed to others.

Val loved Jon Stark’s honor and his strength, she despised his cunning and his cruelty that he would do for the greater good but what she despised most of all was the way that he had turned her children into his loyal soldiers willing to do anything to avenge the death of an aunt that they had never met. The only fortunate point in all this was that Dacey Mormont’s sons were their father’s most loyal soldiers while her own son Rickard though hesitant, would still follow his father’s lead and she despised that she would potentially lose a child that she had carried with her for almost a year a time.

The worst part was that Val knew that Jon loved all his children greatly. He loved Dacey Mormont’s children, he loved Alys Karstark’s children, he loved Ygritte’s children and he loved her children, yet he could still harden his heart and sent them off on a crusade that could potentially mean their death because he valued duty above all; it is the duty of a brother to protect his siblings, if he cannot, it is his duty to avenge them, was his response every time his decision was challenged.

Val could understand her lover’s anger, truly she could. If Dalla had been raped and murdered, Val would never give in until she avenged her sister, but she knew that she would have thought of her children before her own need for vengeance, but Jon Stark was a different man that had such a loyalty to his family that it was astounding. The way that he destroyed House Bolton; man, woman and child, proved that to the Seven Kingdoms ten times over.

“This is foolishness, Jon Stark.” Val said grimly, glaring at the father of her children. “You will only bring death and ruin upon the North and your children, our children.” She told the grim Lord of Winterfell. “Cannot you not see that your desire for vengeance will only bring ruin to us all?”

Jon was silent, but his reaction was not. As Val took in his eyes that resembled chips of ice, his hardened and twitching jaw, and his twitching hands, she knew that the Lord of Winterfell was furious beyond all reason.

“What do you expect of me, Val?” Jon asked, forcefully trying to keep his voice calm as to not attract attention. “When I was growing in Winterfell, beyond Lady Stark, my father showed me kindness and love no man in my position as a boy would experience. They took me in when no man had ever taken in a bastard, even their own.” Jon told her, his voice fond. “And the South took from me my family, the ones that gave me hope and love. They took my father’s head for a treason he did not commit, they mutilated my brother’s body for loving a woman he wasn’t supposed to and,” Jon stuttered for a moment, such was his anger. “a man raped my sister, flung my young nephew from the top of the Red Keep and stabbed my sister until she and her unborn child were no longer breathing.”

Val could not even speak as her lover stood up, his form trembling in rage as his hand found the nearest chair and Val knew what was coming before he even did it.

“THE SOUTH TOOK FROM ME EVERYTHING!” Lord Stark, for he had taken the wroth face of Lord Stark, roared as the chair shattered against the stone wall of the Great Hall. After a long moment of a deep and heavy silence, Jon approached Val and kneeled down so that he was level with her.

Val looked straight at Jon’s face and felt true fear for the first time. His usually cold eyes were burning with hate, his jaw was clenched so hard that his jaw was reddening, and his fists were actually _shaking_ from his pure unadulterated anger.

“And I shall take from them… _everything._ ”

And thus, the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North stalked off, his furred coat fluttering behind him as he disappeared into the distance.

_Men fear Rickon Stark, Lord Stark’s savage brother. They should fear him instead. Rickon’s anger is hot and burning but quick to pass but his is like ice, not noticeable until touched and when touched, it is an anger that cuts and impales his enemies and never ends until its target is destroyed._

Val pitied the men and women that had ignited Jon Stark’s wrath for they would never be free, not even they were on a bended knee with Longclaw at their neck and Val knew that either the White Wolf would get his vengeance, or Westeros would _burn._

 

 


	9. The White Wolf's Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rickard is fuckin' on board!

Cregan was silent as he observed his brothers, the eldest of his younger siblings, but acting like boys in a way he had never seen Torrhen, Harlon or Edwyn act. His wild brother, Jeor, was crowing about how Rickard was a weakling who feared the Targaryens, his stone-faced brother was mocking Rickard about how he was more kneeler than northerner while Rickard was hissing that both his younger brothers were fools of the highest degree.

Cregan loved his brothers, he did, but none of them understood their father and his ambitions, not truly. Jeor cared not for their father’s plans beyond the battles to come, Edric did not care of their father’s true motives beyond the fact that he would stop being a kneeler and Rickard could not understand how much House Stark was chaffed under the rule of the Dragon Kings but Cregan knew that this was expected, for Jon Stark was a paranoid man that did not trust Jeor’s wildness, Edric’s Free Folk notions or Rickard’s obsession with peace over freedom.

It was Cregan that his father had told all his plans for the North and the Seven Kingdoms as a whole, it was Cregan who his father spoke of his hatred of the Dragon King and Queen, it was Cregan who witnessed his father sob like a child whenever something reminded him of Aunt Sansa.

Cregan knew that all his brothers and sisters saw of his father was a strong, stern man that would do anything to protect his family and his kingdom, but they do not know of the love and caring that lays beneath his grim exterior. For all of Karsi’s love for Father, even she does not know of the masks that Father wears to protect their family, to protect their freedom, to protect the North.

But Cregan does.

Cregan knows his father’s plans.

Cregan knows his father’s anger.

Cregan knows his father’s sorrow.

And Cregan…will do anything to make sure his father’s goals and ambitions are realized, and when it is his time to rule the North, none will forget Jon Stark’s ideals.

“I am telling you, this idea of war is madness.” Rickard said for what seemed the thousandth time as he glared at Jeor.

“You are a coward, you damn fool.” Jeor said, his voice a deep rumble. “How could you see it as acceptable that our father, the greatest warrior that this world has ever known, to bend to a silver-haired fool that hasn’t used a blade in a decade?” He declared, stepping forward as his dark eyes glared into his brother’s icy blue eyes. “It was our father that destroyed the Army of the Dead, it was our father that ended the Night King, it was our father that slew Cersei the Mad, it OUR father that ended Euron’s Rebellion!”

Rickard said nothing, knowing the truth in his words.

“Where was King Aegon, where was Queen Daenerys, where was the SOUTH when our father fought and bled for these Seven Kingdoms!?” Edric’s words were quieter than his elder brother’s but no less heated.

“King Aegon is the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.” Rickard said but it did not sound convincing to even his own ears.

“Rightful?” Evidently, neither did it to Edric’s ears. “We are of the North, of the First Men just like the Free Folk. We do not follow a man because his father tells us. If the King’s son was strong and brave, aye, we’d follow him as we do his father.” Edric declared, his fists clenching at his side. “But King Aegon is weak. His wife has stolen a daughter of the First Men. We have but one King.”

Rickard looked as if he was about to argue while Jeor was grinning smugly but when Cregan slammed his hand down on the table in front of him, all his brothers turned to him, their expressions surprised as they all became as silent as a crypt.

“You are brothers!” Cregan’s voice was not loud, but it had a strength to it that they had only heard in their father’s. “While you sneer and mock one another, House Targaryen grows as a threat every single day! Our aunt remains unavenged!” He roared, sounding like the wolf on their sigil. “Remain silent. And await Father.”

His brothers became silent, though rather reluctantly in Jeor’s case who found amusement watching his brothers about to have a fist fight. Say what you will, but a good fist fight always made everyone feel better if you were to ask the third son of Jon Stark.

“Impressive.”

Cregan froze as he heard his father’s deep, northern voice and he turned his head to find his father leaning against the door to his solar, observing his sons with amusement and Cregan quickly shot up from his spot seated at his father’s desk, an apology on his lips.

“Sit, boy.” Father’s voice was stern and approving in equal measure and Cregan found himself slowly seated back in his father’s chair. “One day, you will rule the North and all its sons and daughters as the Lord of House Stark.” Father told him as he walked over to the war table in the middle of the solar. “It is good that you are taking initiative to that day because I will not be here forever, and you must serve the North to the best of your ability.” Father traced his hand over the lands of the North. “Never forget, Cregan. Within you, the blood of Cregan Stark the Old Man of the North runs, the blood of the Hungry Wolf and the Wild Wolf and the Wandering Wolf and every Stark that has brought glory to our name exists. You must always remember this, my sons.” Father declared as he gazed upon each of their faces, studying them for a moment and nodding.

“Rickard will remain in the North.”

As soon as these words left the Lord of Winterfell’s lips, Rickard Stark’s volatile temper exploded as he stalked towards his father.

“What do you mean I will remain in the North?” The Golden Wolf demanded. “What will it say to the Seven Kingdoms that all your sons but me are coming to the South? What will they say when you left your second heir back in the North?”

Father said nothing for a long moment.

“Edwyn and Harlon will also remain in the North.” Is all that the Warden of the North said to his second son.

“Fath- “

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Father said, his voice hard, though he knew that none of his brothers, even Rickard, could sense it.

“Edwyn and Harlon will rem- “

Cregan could see his father’s explosion of temper before it happened.

“You are my son and you will do as I command!” Father roared, slamming his hands onto the war table with an anger none of his sons save Cregan had ever witnessed.

“I am your son, not your slave!” Rickard growled, a stubbornness he had inherited from his father deciding to come out to play at the most inopportune of times. “There is no reason I should remain behind. Harlon and Edwyn are here and Mother and Ygritte hare here to help them rule Winterfell in our absence.”

“I have made my will clear, Rickard.” Father said, a coldness to his face that Cregan had never heard him use with his children.

“I am goi- “

Cregan closed his eyes as Father sharply slapped Rickard on his right cheek who fell to the ground like a heap of potatoes.

Even Father seemed surprised with himself.

“Leave.” Father commanded the entire room and Cregan and his brothers were not fool enough to disobey him as all of them, even Rickard, got up to leave. “Not you.” Father commanded as he looked upon Rickard’s solemn form.

As Rickard gave Cregan a nod of acceptance, Cregan escorted his younger brothers out of the room while he remained after a nod from Father though he stood in the back of the room as Father and Rickard could speak.

Father knelt before Rickard who was looking at his feet resolutely but was forced to look into Father’s eyes when the Lord of Winterfell gripped his face with his calloused hands, his grey eyes locking with Rickard’s icy blue eyes filled with hurt.

“You are my son.” Father said, his voice softer than usual. “I love you and your siblings more than life itself, Rickard.” He said while Rickard seemed surprised, knowing his father was not a man that usually showed his emotion. “I know how much you love your brothers and sisters, and how much you wish to protect them, and I know that is why you are against this vendetta that I have against House Targaryen.” Father chuckled mirthlessly. “Do not think me without emotion, my son, for when I was your age I had such rage at my father, I did not understand his sense of rigid honor, but you will learn as I did that what I do is for our family.” Father told Rickard who seemed more curious than hurt now. “But, like you, Rickard, my love for my siblings is without limit.”

Rickard considered this, though he said nothing.

“I and Sansa, we did not get along as children.” Father smiled sadly as Cregan and Rickard listened intently, having never heard of this. “I was the bastard of Father and she was the devoted daughter of Lady Stark.” Father shook his head fondly. “But, years after the near the destruction of our house, after my father’s death, after my brother’s death, we reunited, and we depended on one another to regain the North and rule it.” Father said, a mix of fondness and anger in his mind.

“With King Joffrey the Illborn’s death, we believed it prudent to make peace with House Baratheon through the marriage of my sister and young King Tommen and for years, we had peace until Tommen died and my sister and her children lived as hostages under Cersei the Mad’s rule and then House Targaryen and all their dragons came to Westeros!” Father declared with such hatred that Cregan wasn’t sure if it was his father speaking.

“At first, we were natural allies.” Father told them, a side of the story that Cregan had never heard in truth. “Aegon Targaryen sought the destruction of House Lannister. Daenerys Targaryen sought the destruction of House Lannister. I and my brothers sought the destruction of the Lannisters.” Father said, grinning at the reminder of Cersei’s death. “And we succeeded in our quest. Cersei Lannister fell at my hand. The War for the Dawn was won between the alliance of Stark and Targaryen. The Night King slain, the Army of the Dead destroyed, hope would return to Westeros and the rest of the world.”

Father now wore an expression of great sadness and anger.

“But…” Father hesitated, his eyes sad. “when we arrived at Winterfell, news came from King’s Landing.” Father shook his head, still disbelieving after all these years.

“Khal Argo has murdered and raped your sister, her son has been thrown from the top of the Red Keep and her unborn child was killed in the womb.” Father clenched his teeth so hard that Cregan feared he would break his teeth. “My sister raped and killed, my nephew thrown from the Red Keep and an unborn Stark killed before it could breathe!” Father growled, sounding like the wolf on their sigil more than he ever had.

“Do you know how I raged? How I wept? How I cursed Aegon the Fool and Daenerys the Whore?” Father shook his head, trying to control his anger. “But, still, even with such anger and hate, I was forced to bend the knee to those child-killers because if they did not, they would burn and ravage the North and so I bent the knee but I never forgot, I never forgave and I have plotted and planned to attain justice for my murdered family.” Father declared as he pulled Rickard up with him. “Fight with me, my son. Support our campaign. Be true to your family for when you were but a babe, it was my sister who loved you before anyone else.” Father said, a great surprise filling Cregan and Rickard which caused Father to chuckle. “When you and Cregan were born, Sansa…sh-sh-she…” Father’s expression turned blank before tears began welling in his eyes. “She wrote every day.” His voice trembled. “Every month, countless ravens would arrive, asking for your well-being, sending gifts for you.” Father shook his head and Cregan could see Rickard was shook to the core. “If she could have, Sansa would have loved and treasured my children more than anyone else.”

Father stared directly into Rickard’s eyes, his eyes hard.

“Will you help me bring death and destruction upon those who took that chance away from my sister?”

Rickard was silent for so long that Cregan thought he wouldn’t even answer but when he did, he said something that shook Cregan to the core.

“I…will, Father.” Rickard declared, a resolution in him that Cregan had never heard in the fifteen years that he had known his younger brother. “Aunt Sansa will not remain unavenged and they will learn the cost of taking a Stark daughter.”

Rickard gripped Father’s shoulders.

“I am with you, from this day, until the end of my days.” Rickard declared, his voice trembling with emotion. “I will remain in the North, Father, and await the day that the armies of the North answer your call for war.”

Father was silent for a moment before a smile so small that Cregan thought it a trick of the light appeared on his lips.

“Good.” Father gripped Rickard and even Cregan himself by the shoulder, his grey eyes gazing at his two eldest sons. “Together, we will avenge my sister, and the North. Together, you two will rule the North after my death and you will ensure its freedom and when I win this freedom, you will make sure that it is never lost again.”

Cregan Stark and Rickard Stark bowed their heads to the man who they already regarded as the King in the North.

“My sons.” Father declared, his voice so filled with pride that it actually took his two eldest sons back by surprise. “We will teach the South a very harsh, but important lesson.

The three Starks exchanged looks.

“The Wolf’s Fury must never be challenged.”

Father wore a cold smile, Rickard a deadly one and Cregan a dark one.


	10. Wolfspawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaehaerys Targaryen is...

Daenerys’ sharp violet orbs gazed upon her children, weighing them for their worth, to see if they had their mother or father in them. Daenerys had never known what to feel about her children, she loved them, of course she did yet whenever she gazed upon them, she looked for Rhaego, her firstborn, her beloved child, in them, but she could find naught of him in the looks or bearing of his younger brothers and sister and she would feel sorrow that these children of hers, her blood, would never know temperamental Drogon, sweet Viserion or wild Rhaegal, and they would never know dark-haired, violet-eyed Rhaego who was destined to rule the world with Fire and Blood.

And that broke the Dragon Queen’s heart more than anything else, that these children of hers had more of Aegon and her brothers than of her. Daena with her defiant nature and arrogance had so much of a young Aegon in her, Daeron with his temper was more Viserys than her or Aegon and her eldest son, the man that would one day rule as King of Westeros, had more of his father in him than any of his children, though his coloring was all hers save for the violet eyes that were so dark they almost appeared black.

“How have your studies been coming along?” Daenerys felt herself pulled from her thoughts at Aegon’s hard voice that he did not even turn off when speaking to his own children, though Daenerys was not surprised. It was common knowledge in the Red Keep that King Aegon cared little for his children beyond what they could do for the glory of House Targaryen and the betterment of the Realm. Aegon the Arrogant regarded his sons merely as extensions of his own glory while he regarded his only daughter as a broodmare that ensure the might of the Dragon Kings and Queens of House Targaryen.

“Well, Father.” Daeron spoke first, his voice like poisoned honey. “Maester Malrik says that I am far ahead of what is expected of me.” The Second Prince of the Iron Throne told the King of Westeros, his violet eyes glinting with a cruelty Daenerys remembered Viserys possessing when they were still children. “According to him, I will have learnt all that I need by the time of my next nameday.”

“Good.” Aegon seemed pleased, though Daenerys doubted it was in his pride of his son’s accomplishments, but more in Daeron’s accomplishments adding to his own reputation of fathering a son with such intelligence.

The King now turned to his elder children who both Daenerys and Aegon knew had little love for their father. “And you, Daena?” Aegon wondered, his violet orbs focusing on his daughter who was all but glaring at her father. “Have your lessons in your womanly duties been coming along?”

“I am doing my best, Father.” Daena said, but Daenerys could see the poison that she was spitting from her eyes, no doubt imagining one thousand ways to kill the King of Westeros and Daenerys felt an odd kinship with her daughter for the first time.

“You must do better.” Aegon said, oblivious fool that he was. “Soon enough, it will be time for you to wed for the good of the Realm.” He continued, growing completely oblivious of the Crown Prince’s growing anger. “I will not have it said that Aegon Targaryen’s daughter is a poor bride.”

Daenerys could see her eldest son’s control break.

“Father,” Jaehaerys’ voice was filled with controlled fury. “there is still time for my sweet sister to be wed, is there not?” The Crown Prince asked, trying to control his anger. “And once she does, she will prove herself every bit the granddaughter of the Dragon.” Jaehaerys’ words seemed a compliment, but Daenerys knew that Aegon was no fool, despite how many times he acted so, but it was in the wording of how her son insulted his father. Most sons in this position would say ‘the daughter of the Dragon’ but in his subtle wording, he insulted his father in a way that Aegon would seem a weak and feeble king if he reacted and even if Aegon was fool enough to not understand the wording, Daena’s look of admiration and love to her brother revealed the truth hidden beneath his words.

“Indeed.” By Aegon’s pursed lips and cold tone, it was obvious that the King of Westeros understood exactly what the Crown Prince was insinuating in his cloaked insult for it was something whispered not only by his vassals, but also the lowborn. That Aegon Targaryen was not even half the man that Rhaegar Targaryen, that he was not the Dragon as his father was but the shadow of a snake like his uncle Viserys.

“Father,” Jaehaerys began again, his tone more inquiring than challenging now. “I heard tell that all the Lord Paramounts of Westeros will be attending my nameday tourney.” Daenerys’ eldest son said, a strange tone of not excitement, but expectation in his voice.

“You heard correctly, Jaehaerys.” Aegon told his eldest son, though his expression was still sour over the Crown Prince’s insult. “It is the duty of my lords to honor my heir as much as they do me and this is the perfect opportunity.”

“You mean to make the Lord Paramounts swear fealty once again?” Daeron wondered, a cruel grin curving at his lips at the thought of the most powerful men in the world bowing before him and his family.

“Perhaps.” Is all Aegon said.

“Is that wise, father?” Jaehaerys said and he seemed to realize his mistake immediately as Aegon’s cold eyes found him. “Forgive my impertinence, Father, but it is no lie to say that the North have amassed the support of two other kingdoms.” The Crown Prince explained. “In truth, Northern Westeros is in support of Lord Stark.”

“Westeros is mine.” Aegon’s words were as cold as his eyes. “Northern Westeros, Southern Westeros, Eastern Westeros, Western Westeros…it all belongs to me and even that fool Stark’s fealty belongs to me.”

Daenerys could see Jaehaerys’ judging Aegon, deeming him unworthy and bowing his head to him.

“As you say, Your Majesty.”

Aegon nodded, a pleased expression on his face but Daenerys could see that this matter was not settled as Jaehaerys Targaryen gazed at his father, his eyes as cold as ice, his face as hard as stone and his bearing as still as a shadow.

Daenerys could see his father in him, in his eyes that missed nothing, in his chiseled face that was hard and unforgiving as winter, in his grim bearing that only softened in the presence of his loved ones, in his mind for politics, in his kindness and strength.

Yes.

Jaehaerys Targaryen, her son, the Crowned Prince of Westeros, the man that would one day sit the Iron Throne as the Third of His Name…

He truly was Jon Stark’s son.

 


	11. House Baratheon - Characters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on my Gendry/Arya chapter, so here is their family.

**Gendry Baratheon (37), the Lord of Storms End, is a fierce but quiet man that values family above all else. Unlike his wife and his wild-tempered eldest son and heir, he does not wish to invoke war to sate the vengeance of House Stark, but he is stuck between a rock and a hard place because he wishes to stand by the side of Jon Stark, the man that he considers his brother in all but blood. As Robert Baratheon's last living child, there is great love for him in the Stormlands and he is considered the greatest threat to Jon Connington, the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.**

****

**Arya Baratheon (34), the Lady of Storms End, is as fierce and fiery as she was as a child, more warrior than lady, known among the Stormlords as the Storm Wolf. Even as a mother and wife, Arya fights and trains as much as she did as a child and as a result she is one of the most dangerous swordmasters in the world having been trained by Brienne of Tarth, the Master at Arms at Storms End, personally. Arya loves her family beyond everything else, but beyond all else, her loyalty to her brother Jon Stark is most important to her and like her brothers, she wishes to avenge her dead sister by bringing about the fall of House Targaryen.**

****

**Orys Baratheon (22), the Heir of Storms End, is Robert Baratheon come again in his love of battle and women. Like his mother, he does not take slights against his family well, and as a result he wishes to wage war against the Royal Family to avenge he loved more than anyone else as a child when he was a hostage of Queen Cersei Baratheon alongside his Aunt Sansa. As a man and warrior, there is no man that he respects more than his Uncle, Jon Stark, who is considered the greatest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms.**

****

**Lyanna Baratheon (16), Lord Baratheon's only daughter, is as fierce and beautiful as her namesake, considered the Jewel of the Stormlands. Her relationship with her mother is strained but she loves her father more than life itself. She has more of her father in her than all of her siblings combined and alongside her father, she is especially close with her Uncle Jon who has the same quiet bearing as her and her father.**

****

**Shireen Baratheon, who ruled as the Queen of Westeros for a year before Cersei Baratheon took her throne and imprisoned her, is a strong and quiet woman that loves her cousin and his family above all else. After a stormy but quick affair with Rickon Stark and giving birth to a stillborn son, she has refused to wed and instead chose to remain as adviser to her cousin and his wife. She has acted as Jon Stark's agent in the South, learning what she could and relaying it back to the man that took her in and put her on the Iron Throne when her father and mother died.**

 


	12. The Stag and the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the second last chapter before everyone meets at King's Landing. After this, we will have a Bran/Meera chapter and then the true action begins.

Gendry Baratheon found his wife, as fierce as the day that they had met, in the burned Godswood of Storms End, a gift from the late Stannis Baratheon that burnt the place of worship in the name of his Red God. 

The Lord of Storms End gazed upon his wife of seventeen years with fondness as she was seated in the center of the Godswood, her eyes closed as he prayed to the Old Gods, her father’s gods, her grandfather’s gods, her beloved brother’s gods. Gendry knew that Arya had no true belief in the Old Gods of the Forest, her worship lay with Death, the God of the Faceless Men that she trained with for years during her self-imposed exile to the East, but she would come to the Godswood to be closer to her father, and her dead elder brother. 

“Don’t just stand there like a ninny, Gen.” Arya snapped, eliciting a smirk to curve at Gendry’s lips at his wife’s fiery temper that had not faded even as a wife and mother. “It is clear that you have something to say.” She told him, her grey eyes sharp. “You are not a man who cares for the gods, be they mine or your father’s, so tell me.” 

Gendry sighed deeply as he took a seat beside his wife, gazing into the eyes of the mutilated weirwood tree, a shiver going through him even after all these years as the sight of those red, bleeding eyes. 

“King’s Landing.” Arya realized, her expression hard. “There is news from King’s Landing, is there not?”

Gendry still said nothing. 

“Speak, you stubborn bull!” Arya huffed, glaring into her husband’s eyes and Gendry finally relented. 

“Not only King’s Landing.” Gendry said after a moment of silence. “Your brother also sent us a raven.” Gendry told her, observing her surprise. “Well, he sent it you more than me, but his news is grave, no matter its recipient.” Gendry explained, not surprised when Arya snatched the missive out of his hands, her expression eager for news from her favorite brother. 

“Arya,” Arya began reading, her expression soft as she envisioned her brother who she had not seen for years. “I write to you with heavy heart. Long has it been since we have spoken but as you may or may not know, the King and Queen have demanded of their Lord Paramounts to come to King’s Landing, to celebrate their heir’s nameday they say, but you and I know the Dragons have ulterior motives.” Arya continued, her expression darkening at the mere mention of the Dragon King and Queen. “I implore you, sweet sister, come to King’s Landing and support your family as you always have.” Arya felt herself nodding eagerly to the letter. “Love always, your beloved brother, Jon Stark.” 

Arya was silent, tears sliding down her cheeks as she held the letter from her elder brother to her chest. 

“You know your brother intends to invoke rebellion.” Gendry said after a moment, his expression grim. Gendry had never known what to feel about the Lord of Winterfell, not sure whether to follow him or curse him for his ambition and ruthlessness. When he was still a bastard boy with nothing to his name, it was Jon Stark who had at the time been the King in the North who had accepted him and treated him as one of his own as they fought and bled to bring back a Wight to prove to the Targaryens that the threat was true and for that Gendry called the man his brother but his brother would become a man lost to his vengeance and ambition in the end of the war, a path that Gendry refused to follow, much to the anger of his wife. 

“My brother means to avenge our sister.” Arya corrected him, her blazing grey eyes turning to look into his own stormy blue orbs. “You called him your brother, and he called you kin, why do you struggle to stand behind him now?” 

Gendry was silent for so long that neither he or Arya were sure that he would even answer the question.

“I love Jon, he is the brother I chose, yet I have children now.” Gendry told her. “We have children now.” He told her, his calloused hands holding her small but no less calloused hands gently. “Can we not ignore what games the Realm plays?” He begged her more than anything. “We have love and family here, why risk it all for vengeance?” 

Arya was silent for a moment and so melancholy that Gendry had the foolish hope that his logic could get through this infuriatingly proud woman. 

“No.”

It was not to be. 

“I cannot turn my back on my brother, not now, not ever.” She told him sternly. “Jon has always stood by me. When I was Arya Underfoot, Jon threatened Jeyne Poole and her cronies. When I was a lost woman from the House of Black and White, Jon accepted me and protected me.” Arya shook her, a feeling of guilt filling her at the war that she knew would bring devastation on her family. “I must stand by him, as he always has by me.” 

Gendry merely sighed, knowing anything he would say was for naught for Arya Stark’s loyalty belonged to the White Wolf above all. 

They were saved from further confrontation when Lyanna, his beautiful daughter, rushed into the Godswood, flushed red as she breathed heavily.

“Mother, Father,” Lyanna began as Gendry and Arya arched an eyebrow “, Orys just received a missive from Uncle Rickon.” She told them, observing as her mother quickly shot up, appearing by her side.

“Rickon?” Gendry wondered, standing up as he walked towards his wife and daughter who were reading the letter. “Your youngest brother hasn’t been in Westeros for a year, what is this raven out of nowhere?” 

He felt a sense of dread fill his entire being at his wife’s excited grin and his daughter’s amused smile. 

“Those brothers of mine have grown more devious over the years.” Arya cackled, throwing her head back. “It seems the ‘argument’ between Jon and Rickon was no more than a farce for that wild boy to go East to gather more allies.” Arya shook her head, disbelieving that her once incredibly righteous and honorable elder brother could act with such cunning.

Gendry arched an eyebrow, wondering who in the seven hells Rickon could bring from the East that would help them in Jon’s crusade against the Targaryen Dynasty. It was well-known that Daenerys Targaryen was well-loved in Essos. 

“The Company of the Rose.” Lyanna told her father, smiling gently. “Uncle Rickon has been speaking with them for months, trying to convince them to fight with the Starks of Winterfell for the first time since Brandon Whitestark left Westeros.” She explained, inwardly eager to meet this Serena Whitestark that her uncle was praising in his raven. 

“With this, things just got a little more interesting.” Arya said with a grin. “Now, our war has an even greater chance.” 

Gendry furrowed his brows as the annoyed look that his daughter gave to her mother causing him to withhold a deep sigh. Gendry knew that his daughter loved Arya but Lyanna had always been more sweet-hearted, having taken more from Shireen than she ever had from Arya which constantly put the mother and daughter at odds. 

Arya was fast-paced and eager for battle even after all these years while Lyanna believed that a gentle, more cunning approach was needed to attain what one wanted, a trait which Gendry was loath to say she inherited from her Uncle Jon during the years she was fostered in Winterfell as a child. 

As Gendry observed his wife and daughter attempt to speak without getting angry and storming off, he hoped that Jon’s ambitions would not bring death and destruction upon their families once again because after fifteen long years…  
It was time to go back to King’s Landing.


	13. The Wolf and the Lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Daven Lannister!

Jon Stark felt disgust fill his entire being as his grey eyes gazed upon the golden and beautiful façade of the capital city of Westeros, a façade that covered the injustice and the corruption that the Targaryens and the Baratheons before them had long attempted to cover up with their knights and their Seven and their beauty and their songs.

All lies.

Lies that brought only sorrow and ruin to his family, to his beloved sister who had once with her whole heart believed in the songs of true honor and of the beautiful knights that would protect her but when push came to shove, none stood in his sister’s defense. The noble knights of Westeros merely stood by as his sister and his nephew were wrapped up in Targaryen cloaks to cover the blood that covered their bodies.

It was reported that Aegon Targaryen’s eyes glinted with triumph as the bodies of his most wild vassal’s relatives were laid before him, but Jon had never been a man to forgive or forget a slight, even as a boy when that damned Greyjoy would see fit to mock as a result of his bastard status.

The day would come when Aegon Targaryen and his whore rued the day that they crossed House Stark with impunity.

“Father,” Jon heard his eldest son call to him and he turned to Cregan who was looking at him with a worried expression. Fool boy, he had his mother’s heart and for that Jon was incredibly grateful. “are you alright?” The boy asked and instead answering, Jon merely nodded, fearing that he would explode if he spoke with his temper getting the better of him.

Jon almost smiled; Sansa always did scold him for his temper. And just as soon as that thought came to him, his fury returned to him. His fury was a curse as much as a blessing to him; it was his fury that won him the Battle of the Bastards, but it also his fury which built a wedge between him and the mothers of his children who could not understand the loyalty nor the love that he bore for his siblings and he knew they never would.

“Ha!”

Jon’s thoughts of his fury were banished when he heard a familiar, booming voice that belonged to an old friend; he was proven correct when the beaming, jovial face of Devan Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Warden of the West entered his vision, his beautiful daughter Joanna Lannister at his sister.

“It has been long, my friend!” Daven declared, as boisterous as ever as he gripped Jon at his shoulders, grinning widely. “You look good! As fierce as the day we slew Euron Greyjoy, and as stone-faced!” He laughed; it was a deep throaty sound.

Jon almost laughed at the expression on the faces of Cregan and Karsi who seemed completely and utterly bewildered at the behavior of the Lannister Lord. He knew it came as a surprise to them that their father whose lords usually acted with complete and utter respect towards him interacting with a man that acted more like he was Jon’s drinking partner than a fellow Lord Paramount.

“You look well, as well, Daven.” He said, finding secret joy in the utter shock on the faces of his children at his lack of formality towards another lord. “The years, it seems, have been kind to you, my friend.” He said, gazing upon the great beard of his long-time friend. It seemed that even after Robb’s death, the Lannister refused to shave his beard off that he first grew after his father’s death, swearing not to shave it off until his father was avenged.

“At least, kinder than they were to you.” Daven said, his words soft and meaningful as his gaze turned to Cregan and Karsi beside him. Jon took his meaning well as he nodded, indicating that they knew of his plans. “Well, look at you two, all grown up.” Daven grinned as he turned completely towards his friend’s children.

“You were still a babe when I last saw you, little wolf.” He said to Edric Stark as he slapped the boy on the back causing Edric to stumble before holding himself up, glaring at the southern knight, his distaste of all thing southern clear to see; a fact which made Devan laugh like a pirate king. “HA! He truly is your son, Jon boy!”

“I am pleased to meet you, Lord Lannister.” Cregan bowed his head lightly, but Devan merely laughed him off with a slap on the shoulder.

“Call me Daven, boy!” He said, cackling at the disdain on Cregan’s face at being called a boy even though he was a man grown. “I should have known your father would make a warrior of you, Lady Karsi.” Daven said with his grin still on his lips as he looked upon the lightly armored daughter of the Lord of Winterfell.

“Father sees the worth in all, Lord Lannister.” Karsi said, her eyes hard. “He has the qualities of a King, a _true_ one.” She spoke, truly her mother’s daughter with her impatience and recklessness but with a look from her father, she straightened up and bowed her head to him in apology, a sense of joy filling her when her father gave her an almost-smile.

“Lord Daven, let’s have a spar.” Jeor Stark said, a wicked grin on his lips. “Father has told me of your skill in battle, I’d like to test it.” He said, ignoring his father who almost slapped his forehead in annoyance; his sons were more trouble than they were worth sometimes.

“Interesting, wild wolf. “ Daven laughed. “Perhaps soon, Lord Jeor.” He said before turning to his daughter, beautiful and golden. “As for me, my friend, this is my daughter, Joanna Lannister, named for my aunt.” He said, while Jon tried hard not to show any outward emotion, his disdain for Tywin Lannister as clear as it was decades ago. “She recently had her nameday. Two and three, my sweet daughter is!” Daven laughed again.

“Nice to meet you, my lord.” Joanna Lannister bowed her head to Jon, her sharp green eyes captivating, with a gentleness to them that Jon did not expect from a Lannister, even if it was his friend’s daughter. “Father has told me much of you. I am honored to meet the man that ended the Second Long Night and brought peace to our world.”

Jon felt himself swallow, feelings that he should not be feeling for a friend’s daughter, no matter if she was already old enough to be a wife and mother, as he nodded his head, his own grey eyes looking into her emerald orbs.

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Joanna.” He said, holding himself back from striking his fool son Jeor who was none too obviously rolling his eyes while Cregan was doing all in his power not to groan at his father’s obvious attentions of the Lannister girl and Karsi was glaring at the blonde whore. “I apologize, my lady, but I have things to speak with your father.”

Joanna nodded as she moved back.

Jon’s grey eyes were steely as he looked into Devan’s dark emerald eyes.

“Alone.”

With a nod, Daven led Jon towards to Dancing Lion, an inn where they would get much privacy, away from unsuspecting eyes while their children began walking towards where the Lord Paramounts and their families would be staying; at the Red Keep.

After a few minutes of walking, Daven and Jon found themselves in the back room of the Dancing Lion, both men sat across from one another. For a long moment, there was silence in the room, a deep tension-filled silence that could be cut with knife.

“You have not given up, my old friend.” Daven said after a moment, his voice much less boisterous. “That rage that filled your beings at the end of the war still burns as great as the day that, that tragedy took place.”

Jon sighed deeply.

“Yes.” He said simply. “I cannot forget. I will not forget. For almost two decades, I have simmered in icy cold hate, forced every day of my life to do nothing as my sister, her son and her unborn child remain unavenged.” His eyes were as cold as ice. “ _You_ have remained silent as your own blood have remained unavenged.” He clenched his fists. “Don’t forget, my friend, Sansa’s children were of your blood, as well.”

Daven merely sighed, looking older than his years.

“Daven, when Sansa and her children were murdered, you told me something; do you remember what it was that you said to me?”

Daven grunted; knowing full well what he had told perhaps his oldest and most beloved friend, his brother in all but blood, linked by the blood of Sansa Baratheon’s children and the blood they spilled during the Mad Kraken’s Uprising.

“I do.”

Jon’s eyes did not soften.

“Tell me.”

Daven clenched his jaw.

“What...were…the…words?” Jon hissed out every syllable, demanding of Daven to bring life back to those cursed words that he spoke all those years ago, words that he had spoken with anger and rage, not knowing of the family he would build and love more than life itself.

Yet.

Yet.

Yet, Jon was his brother, be they linked by blood or fate, they were brothers and he had a duty to his brother even before his duty to his family.

“You are the brother that I chose, Jon.” Devan repeated those cursed words. “But, now is not yet the time for your fury and your hate. You must wait patiently, grow in strength and when that times comes, if your fury has not abated and if you still seek to bring them to task for their crimes, I and the entirety of the West will stand by you, to bring the ruin of those that took from us everything.”

Devan appeared a broken man.

“This, I vow.” But, as he spoke these words, he felt a new strength and fury come to him, that fury that he bore all those years ago. “I will do this, brother. I will act as your sword and shield in this coming war.”

Jon almost smiled, but by the look on his friend’s face, he knew that it was not over.

“But…”

Here it comes, Jon thought, as he prepared himself.

“I have one condition.”

Daven stood up, tall and proud, with a wild grin.

“You will take my daughter to wife and make her your Queen.”

Silence filled the room as Jon gawked and Daven grinned.

“ _What?_ ”


	14. Union of the Wolf and Lion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long ass time, here is another chapter.

_Take a deep breath._

Jon Stark did all in his power to contain the fury that was growing within him as he glared into the mirth-filled eyes of Daven fucking Lannister. In truth, he shouldn’t be surprised that a bloody Lannister would spring this on him out of absolutely nowhere but the Silver Lion would not get what he desired.

He was the White Wolf, and none would demand anything of him.

_Breath._

He had to force himself to call so that he did lunge forward and beat the smug bastard within an inch of his life. Jon Stark was many things, but he was not stupid enough to strike a fellow Lord Paramount that would no doubt be a very useful ally, but not so useful that he would allow a southern power to be the North’s Queen.

“Do you accept?” Daven asked, grinning like a fool as if he gave Jon the greatest offer that he could think of.

_Fucking breath._

Alas, it was not to be as he slammed his hand in the wooden table that separated the Lord of Winterfell and the Lord of Casterly Rock.

“Do you take me for a gullible fool, _Lord Lannister_?” He hissed, his use of Daven’s title showing that he more than a little displeased which Daven Lannister released very quickly if he didn’t by his friend’s hand slamming into the table that separated them. “I have ruled the North for twenty years.” He said grimly.

“I ruled the North during the Long Night, I ruled the North during Euron Greyjoy’s rebellion, I have ruled in war and in peace and not _once_ in those twenty years have I given any woman a position of dominion in _my_ kingdom.” Jon stood up now, glaring down at Daven as if he was an insect at the bottom of his boot. “By what right does the Wild Lion demand anything of the White Wolf?”

Daven looked to say something, but Jon held a hand up to silence the Lion Lord.

“You are my friend, Daven, but do not think to demand anything of me.” Jon said, his grey eyes as cold as ice. “From the day that I became the Lord of Winterfell, I decreed that the Lord of House Stark would not marry, that he would take a woman or more than a few women and would father children on them that would be Starks, but the woman would never carry the name nor the power of Lady Stark.” Jon’s eyes stared into his soul, the gaze in his eyes even more frightening than the Night King himself. “Never again, unless a Stark daughter is the Stark heir, will there ever be a Lady Stark again.” He sat back down in his place, looking weary. “Catelyn Stark showed me the folly of a foreign woman having power over House Stark.”

“Wait, you mean…” Daven trailed off, utterly stunned at what his friend was hinting at.

“Exactly, Silver Lion.” Jon’s voice was amused. “I, nor my son and heir Cregan will ever be wed.” He told the Lannister Lord. “And should I and Cregan perish before Cregan has an heir of his own and Rickard my spare should be wed, it will be annulled upon his rise as Lord Stark.” Jon fought the urge to cackle. “From this day forth, this is the law of House Stark.”

Daven was silent for a long moment before he sat back with a loud sigh and crossed his arms over his muscular chest before grinning at his friend.

“You are a sly bastard, Jon Stark.” Daven laughed as Jon merely smirked. “My question is how the hell did you convince Aegon fucking Targaryen of allowing this law to be passed.”

Jon grinned but it was not a kind smile.

“House Targaryen are a long line of fools.” Jon said calmly as Daven chortled. “When they conquered Westeros, nothing changed, and they allowed the kingdoms to rule their land as they pleased and as a result that they forgot that great houses have the ability to set their own house laws as long as it does not interfere with the laws of Gods and Men.” Jon told his old friend. “I doubt the Targaryen fool and his boot-licking advisors even know that I set this law into effect even though I declared for the entire North to hear.” He shook his head, behind amused.

“So, what do we do now?” Daven asked, sighing deeply. “We are brothers in all but blood, Stark, but I cannot convince the Westerlands to fight with the North without gaining something in return.” He told his friend. “There is still much disdain between the Lords of the West and the North.”

“You are not wrong.” Jon nodded in agreement as a cunning smile curved at his lips. “But, that is why I have a counter offer of wedding your daughter to me or my heir.” Jon said as Daven leaned forward, listening. “You have a son, your heir.” Daven nodded. “And I have a daughter, my youngest who would bloom in the South.” Jon continued. “Let them be wed, and let House Stark and Lannister be united.” He declared. “To the marriage of Dalla Stark and Loren Lannister?”

“To Loren and Dalla!” Daven declared, smashing his mug of ale with Jon’s own before grinning slyly at his friend. “I have another offer that will add an even greater unity along with their marriage.”

“I am listening.” Jon nodded, his eyes intent.

“You said you nor your heir will marry.” Jon nodded. “I accept this at it is a written and accepted law of your house, so my counter offer is that you accept my daughter as your mistress and give her children that are named Stark.”

Jon looked at the man as if he was mad.

“Are you mad?” He even said so. “What is with your fascination of wanting for a union between your daughter and I?” he demanded of him. “What manner of father would be accepting of his daughter becoming a mistress?”

“You worry too much, old friend.” Daven laughed, as if he hadn’t said the maddest thing in the seven hells. “That will be her title, but all in the Seven Kingdoms know you treat each of your mistresses with the respect and love you would give to a legally wed wife.” He told the White Wolf with a smile, a gentler smile. “In this day and age, there is not many I would be willing to give my only daughter to; I trust none of these great houses but I trust you and I know you will treat my daughter as she deserves to be treated with no pressure of being a perfect wife or having to give her husband an heir.” Daven laughed now. “You already have plenty of those.”

Jon Stark was silent for a long moment; long enough that Daven was unsure if his friend was even going to say anything.

“I have one condition, Daven.” He declared and though Daven appeared confused, he nodded in agreement, nodding for him to elaborate. “Your daughter is a woman grown, older than all of my children, and thus I will only accept this if she is accepting of this, if she is accepting of coming to the North, being one of four mistresses, and willing to have a child that will never come its father’s heir apparent.” He declared, his gaze hard.

“As I suspected; you’re a good man, Stark.” Daven said as if he hadn’t known the man for over a decade. “Very well; I accept these terms.” Daven and Jon shared a look, a look of mutual respect and understanding. “Well, let us call her in then.” Daven said as he knocked on the closed door where a servant came in. “Boy, call in my daughter, will you?”

“As you command, my lord.” The boy muttered before leaving the room and after a moment of silence, the door entered and in came Joanna Lannister, the beautiful twenty-three-year-old daughter of Daven Lannister, known far and wide as the Golden Jewel of the Westerlands.

“Come, my daughter, we have much to speak on.” Daven said and with a nod, the graceful young woman sat beside her father and Jon was mesmerized. As much as he tried to control his wondering his eyes, the wolf within him roared in desire at a woman that surpassed even Val in beauty. “As you know, I came here with an offer of your hand to either Lord Stark or his heir.”

Joanna nodded, neither meek nor angry as she refused to move her gaze away from Jon’s steely grey eyes causing the Lord of Winterfell to smirk in approval.

“Unfortunately, information that he has given me has made this impossible.” Her father said, grabbing her attention. “It seems, upon his rise to Lord Stark, Lord Stark decreed that no Lord Stark or Heir Apparent of House Stark would wed a woman that could claim the title of Lady Stark and would only be permitted to have his children from mistresses be claimed as Starks.”

“You do not wish for your houses to face what many houses and dynasties in the past have faced, my lord.” Joanna realized, bowing her head in respect. “That is a wise choice that many men do not have the strength to make.”

Jon merely smiled as he nodded slightly.

“You are not disgusted with this choice?” Jon wondered as he looked upon the woman who was probably even more beautiful than Cersei Lannister in her prime. “That I and my heirs will dishonour the woman and allow bastards to claim what should belong to the trueborn?”

“Not at all, Lord Stark.” Joanna said calmly. “In our history, so many kingdoms and dynasties and houses have fallen because of a King’s wife or a Lord’s wife. Women that seek to control what their husbands have but you cut this problem out root and stem by denying yourself and your heir the chance to even fall for this trap.” Joanna declared. “I have great respect for a man of such insight and conviction.”

Daven grinned at the bonding between his daughter and friend.

“The offer, as a result, changed.” Jon continued, wishing to tell the woman that would bear more of his heirs the truth himself. “To bind House Lannister and House Stark, youngest daughter Dalla and your younger brother Loren will be wed in the sights of Gods and Men, allying the North and the West.” He told her calmly as she nodded in understanding, realizing this gave more leverage to the North than the West as Lord Stark’s laughter would become the next Lady Lannister. “He gave another offer, to sweeten the deal per say.” Jon continued, almost glaring at Daven who cackled.

“Hm?” Joanna hummed, truly curious.

“Lord Lannister offered for me to take you as my fourth mistress, to father sons and daughters would bear the name Stark even if you would not become Lady Stark.” He told her while Joanna froze, trying to comprehend this. “I would like this to be clear; I will only accept this if you are also content with this decision.” He continued as Joanna was silent and pensive. “Before you answer, I will be clear with what you will be faced with; you will not be Lady Stark, you will have no control over the governance of House Stark or the North, you will bear sons and daughters that will bear the name Stark but would serve as bannermen to their elder siblings and you will live in a kingdom you do not know with gods that you do not worship.” He declared as he leaned back.

Joanna took a deep breath after a long moment of quiet.

“I accept.” She declared, ignoring the surprise of her father and Lord Stark. “To answer your reservations, Lord Stark, I care not for tiles, I have not once desired to rule or govern, I have long feared that my future children would be burdened with the cruel mantle of leadership, and I have much love of learning different cultures.” She declared. “I would be beyond honoured to share my life and my future children with a man as respected and noble as you, Lord Stark.”

Jon was silent, thoughtful while Daven was grinning like a man possessed, realizing that Lannister blood would be united with the Starks who Daven had no doubt would bring the fall of the Targaryen dynasty sooner rather than later with the rise of the Stark dynasty which the Lannister would be necessary in forging.

“Very well.” Jon said grimly, though he gave Joanna a gentle smile as the golden-haired woman flushed slightly at the incredibly handsome older man. It truly was _not_ fair how handsome the Lord of Winterfell was; even looking at his face brought about feelings and desires she never knew she had. “Joanna Lannister will to as a wife is to another lord and her children will be Starks of Winterfell as my elder children are.”

Jon grinned roguishly as he offered a hand to the Lannister Lady.

“Welcome to the family, my lady.”

Joanna Lannister flushed as he gently kissed her hands, his lips staying on her hand longer than necessary, so long that she was unsure if Lord Stark was ever going to let go but he did as he turned to her father and the two men embraced.

“To family!”

And so, House Lannister and House Stark would soon be joined together as one and all that stood in the path of the Lion and the Wolf would soon learn that debts must be paid, one way or another.


	15. The Uneventful Meeting of Siblings

Jaehaerys Targaryen strode confidently through the gardens of the Red Keep, ignoring the peering eyes of the spies that littered the castle, no doubt belonging to his fool of a father and his witch of a mother, before he gently took a seat in one of the many benches that filled the garden, a book in hand as he began to read, and observe the spies of his parents in the same breath.

Jaehaerys has lived in the capital for his entire life and he knows what it means to survive in the snake’s pit known as King’s Landing. In such a treacherous hell, even one’s own family could seek your ruin. The Silver Prince, like his grandfather before him, knew the unfathomable arrogance of his father, the boundless hypocrisy of his mother and the cruelty of his younger brother, and knew only to trust in his reckless sister.

He knew that the only way to ensure that true peace could return to Westeros was if the fools and flatterers that ensured the reign of his father and mother were crushed beneath his heel for the houses wronged by the King and Queen would rise sooner or later, this Jaehaerys knew as well as his name.

And Lord Stark was the key to bringing unity to Westeros. If he could get the Lord of Winterfell on his side, if the mighty Jon Stark swore allegiance to this plot against his father and mother, and stood by his side as his chief adviser, he knew that bringing the fall of corruption and treachery would no longer be a pipe dream.

However, the question was how this was going to be achieved. For only a fool did not know the burning hatred the White Wolf felt towards the royal family, but what made Jon Stark truly dangerous was the fact he waited patiently, accepting slight after slight, meticulously planning his vengeance.

Despite his fearsome reputation however, Jaehaerys knew that the fearsome Jon Stark had one weakness; he did not harm children or the innocent. He believed in truth and justice above all things so Jaehaerys knew that he could at least get the Lord Stark to consider his offer, even if he did not accept it.

“Get off me, you southern flop!”

Jaehaerys’ attention was transferred towards the red-haired woman clad in armour who was pushing a slender, blond-haired noble who the Crown Prince recognized as Loren Lannister, the Heir of Casterly Rock, away.

“I apologise for offending you, my lady.” Jaehaerys almost smiled at the amused smirk the Lannister Heir wore as he bowed to the fierce lady who Jaehaerys knew to be Karsi Stark, Lord Stark’s warrior daughter. “Please do forgive me.” To add salt to the wound, he gently kissed the fuming Stark’s girl hand before she roughly pulled her hand away.

“Do not call me a lady, pretty boy.” Lady Karsi sneered, glaring at the golden-haired boy who could not let the amused smile fall from his face but before Loren could continue to tease the red-haired Stark girl, Jaehaerys chose that moment to interrupt.

“Have your parents not taught you manners, Lord Loren?” Jaehaerys wondered with a teasing smile as his old friend flushed and glared at the Crown Prince’s amused form.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny, Your Highness.”

At this, Karsi Stark’s eyes sharpened, seemingly sharing the same hatred towards House Targaryen as her father.

“And this?” Jaehaerys played stupid.

“Karsi. Karsi Stark.” She stressed her last name, answering before the Lannister beside her could speak.

“Well met, Lady Stark.” He nodded his head.

“Karsi.” She said stubbornly. “There is no Lady Stark.” She stressed, glaring at him as if he personally insulted her. “and until Father commands it so, there will not be one.”

“I apologise.” Jaehaerys said, surprised at the sheer loyalty towards Lord Stark. Jaehaerys had known the Northerners were loyal but he had not seen such blind loyalty from a daughter to a father in his entire life. Jon Stark must be quite a man. “It is heartening to see that you have great respect for Lord Stark.”

“Father is worthy of respect.” She said, though she smiled as she seemed pleased at his slight praise of the Lord of Winterfell. “I cannot say the same for others.” She said before giving him a sharp nod and storming off, disappearing into the distance.

“Well, the Starks are as angry as rumoured.” Loren said as he approached him from his left side. “If Jon Stark is anything like his daughter, I have no bloody idea how Father calls him his closest friend.”

“You have never met Lord Stark?” Jaehaerys wondered, curious at this new piece of information.

“No, can’t say I have.” Loren told him. “Father would go North, but he would refuse to take any of his children. Something about Lannisters not being liked well in the North. The only reason Father was so accepted was because of his close friendship with Lord Stark and his efforts to help the North in their building of settlements in the True North.”

Jaehaerys merely nodded.

“Come, the Targaryens and the Starks meet for the first time in over two decades in the throne room. I would not miss this.” Loren said to his friend after a moment as the two men, Lannister and Targaryen, headed towards the throne room, eager to witness the meeting between Aegon Targaryen, the King of Westeros and Jon Stark, the Warden of the North – the two most powerful men in the country.


	16. Defying the King

Queen Daenerys observed the throne room silently as many lords, both great and small, flittered in through the doors. Each of the Lord Paramounts that ruled over Westeros were present, except one.

Jon Stark had yet to arrive and it was obvious that Aegon noticed this if the curl of his lips into a scowl was any indication.

Daenerys almost felt a smile curve at her lips. If Aegon was expecting the Warden of the North to pay respect to them as monarchs and arrive on time as was expected of him as a Lord Paramount under the control of the monarch, the Dragon King was a greater fool than she first thought.

When her gaze found her eldest son’s stern expression, stood beside the King, she felt a sense of nerves and dread well up within her. For the first time, father and son would be in the same room, in direct vicinity of one another. It was pure luck on her side that Jaehaerys had none of his father’s colouring, and only inherited the long face and stern demeanour of his grim father. She just hoped it was enough to hide from Lord Stark.

Shaking her head, Daenerys found her gaze finding each Lord Paramount that ruled over the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, all lined up as they stood from their knees after offering their respect to the King of Westeros.

Lord Devan Lannister was the largest of them, tall and muscular and grinning broadly, looking the very image of the lion on his family crest. Yet, she noticed that when he gazed upon Aegon, she thought to herself this might be how Tywin Lannister had looked upon her late father.

Lord Willas Tyrell was no less handsome than Lord Devan, but he possessed none of the wildness of his fellow Lord Paramount. Instead, the Warden of the South was more subdued, wearing only a gentle smile.

Lord Gendry Baratheon was not Lord Paramount, she knew, however Aegon had deemed him threat enough that his presence was also required. And she could understand why for there was little love for Jon Connington in the Stormlands and Gendry Baratheon was said to be the very image of his father the Usurper with the bearing of his late grandfather the stern Lord Steffon Baratheon.

Her gaze turned towards Lord Theon, a solemn man, and Lord Robin, a laughing man interact. It was strange, Daenerys found, that men who were complete opposites could get along so well.

On the other hand, while the other Lord Paramounts were interacting with one another, Princess Arianne and Lord Edmure were silent, standing away in isolation. Daenerys could understand why. It was no lie to say that ever since the end of the war Dorne had taken an isolationist approach and Edmure Tully was a walking ghost after the death of his wife and children in a freak storm.

“Introducing Jon of the House Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, the Warden of the North and the Protector of the True North!”

At herald’s call, Daenerys felt her head automatically turn towards the entry of the throne room alongside everyone else in the room.

For at the entrance of the throne room stood Lord Stark and his retinue, the man’s face and eyes as hard and cold as the day he left King’s Landing. Daenerys could not pull away her eyes as the White Wolf approached the throne, stood across from Aegon who was growing both angry and afraid, and did not even bow his head.

“King Aegon.”

The disrespect was clear. There was none in the room fool enough not to understand the sheer defiance in his actions and words.

“Lord Stark.” Aegon acknowledge through clenched teeth, barely containing the rage bubbling up in his chest.

With a nod Lord Stark moved back to join the other Lord Paramounts, giving a respectful nod to Lord Devan and Lord Willas.

“I thank you, my Lord Paramounts, for coming on such short notice.” The King spoke, not even looking in the eyes of the men and women he was speaking to. “As you know, the reason I have called you is to celebrate my son’s nameday.” He motioned towards Jaehaerys who nodded at the lords.

Daenerys felt like her heart was going to jump at her throat when Lord Stark looked upon Jaehaerys with a considering looking.

“However, that is not the only reason.” Aegon continued, while Daenerys observing the growing apprehension on the faces of the Lord Paramounts, even Jon Stark who grew stiff as his eyes narrowed. “To ensure that the loyalty for the Crown is still as strong as the day I was crowned, I would have you once again swear your vows to both me and my heirs.”

Daenerys closed her eyes solemnly as she looked upon Jon Stark who seemed to vibrate with fury as his fists clenched and shook.

“No-“

Despite all his anger however, Daenerys never expected in a thousand years for Jon to step forward without hesitation.

“This is an insult, King Aegon.” Jon said coldly as the noblemen and women of King’s Landing gasped at the sheer disrespect. “With this demand, you call us all oath breakers to the Crown.” He said. “Have we not shown loyalty to your reign? Did we not say until the end of our days?”

“Watch your tongue, Lord Stark.” Daenerys almost cursed as Aegon openly insulted the Lord of Winterfell. “You speak to your King. If I say you must once again swear your vows to the Crown, you will swear to my family.”

Jon Stark’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth.

“Very well.” Jon said calmly, too calmly.

Aegon smiled proudly, the fool not knowing how much he weakened the position of House Targaryen in the eyes of the Great Houses.

Daenerys’ eyes widened when Jon, without hesitation, turned around and began walking towards the exit of the throne room.

“Lord Stark! Where do you think you are going without the permission of your liege lord and King?” Aegon, the damned fool, demanded.

Lord Stark did not even turn around, and as Ser Mathos, a member of the Kingsguard, made to stop him, he was struck down by the Lady Karsi slamming the blunt side of her blade into his face, sending him crashing to the floor.

With not a single glance towards the King or even a parting word, Lord Stark, his children and his soldiers left the throne room and all that was left a heavy tension and silence as the King shook with unbridled anger.

“Your Grace,” Prince Jaehaerys stepped forward, bowing his head to the King. “Perhaps it is prudent that I speak to Lord Stark, to ensure he understands your generosity.” He said calmly, knowing praising his father would get him what he desired.

The King was silent for a long moment, so long that Jaehaerys was not sure if his father was going to answer him.

“Very well.” King Aegon said grimly. “Ensure that Lord Stark does his duty.” He demanded of his heir, and Jaehaerys had no doubt that both he and Lord Stark would not like what would happen if he failed.

“As you command, Father.” Without another word, the Crown Prince of Westeros filed out of the throne room and followed after his, unknown to him, father.

And Daenerys Targaryen, the Queen of Westeros, for the first time in her life felt true and unadulterated fear.

 


End file.
